


Arranged

by Bridgette_Hayden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Emerald Lupin Black, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Characters - Freeform, Remus Lupin Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bridgette_Hayden/pseuds/Bridgette_Hayden
Summary: The sight of Harry's future husband changes his mind. AU!





	1. Arranged

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from a Pic Fic.  
> https://www.deviantart.com/chouette-e/art/DM-270809797 
> 
> Disclaimer: All credit and characters belong to JK Rowling. I make no money. I love them so much, I can't let the stories end.

 

Image credit: DM  
by chouette-e on deviantart.com

 

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"Pic Fics" start out cute, but they can grow into very dramatic stories. If 'cute' is all you want, please don't read any further. 

WARNING:  If you need to be warned for everything that could possibly offend someone, this story is not for you. Turn back now. I grew up on paperback novels and there were no tags and warnings. We actually had to be mature and deal with whatever unfolded in the story. What we DIDN'T know, made the excitement, not what we did know. Please don't read if this statement bothers you.

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Harry stopped in his tracks.

Fuck.

He couldn’t close his mouth. His whole family was watching, and he couldn’t get one word past his shock. First he had to deal with that, then deal with being embarrassed because he knew better than to allow looks to matter that much. But they did.

The guy was royal, beautiful, and quite possibly every bit as demanding as his assiduous gaze upon Harry implied. Both their families were in attendance, as if everyone wanted a ringside seat and bets were hedged against Harry possessing the ability to reject this one. After a year of rejecting his parent’s traditions, in the form of every pureblooded git thinking he’s entitled to Harry’s rich vein of magic, that his family could throw at him, how did they find this? He could’ve swore his own mother snickered while the Malfoys judged every twitch in his face. Their expressions dared him to find a flaw in their son.

Harry had practiced all his life to stand up to his family, to say no to any arranged marriage. He did not hold their belief system concerning blood ideologies. He loved them, but had to say no. Until now.

He felt his heart and his life circling the drain. This had to be a spell. They were all against him and Prince Draco Malfoy, had to be their cruelest card. The prince looked like his his genetics were designed to provoke and ensure procreation at all costs. One could not help but find him attractive. The look he returned to Harry said that, not only did he know this, but he was utterly bored with people coming onto him all his life. That’s why no one was allowed to get too close. That’s why, in the Wizarding world, these royals did not flaunt their true status and were now using their well-kept secret of a son to secure the most potent line of magic still walking the Earth. They’d possibly bred him for exactly that purpose. He was here to honor his “family business” as much as Harry was. Duty over romance. That was the drill.

Only Harry was falling in love. Right there on the spot, in front of everyone.

For once in his life, it might not be so bad to have a pedigree that traced valuable magic to him. Gringotts recorded it as an asset greater than gold, and ever since he could remember, he’d been told that an arranged marriage was inevitable. It wasn’t the money that everyone wanted to out live them. It was the magic.

As he drank in Draco’s perfection, he steeled himself against the defiance staring back at him. They were going to have problems. This boy might’ve said yes to his parents, but he was saying no to Harry. That was okay. The guy was going to have to marry someone, right? There was no chance of dating his royal ass casually. Marriage was the only opportunity Harry had to get to know him. It was commit, or nothing at all.

He looked at his mother, who bit her lip knowingly, and barely concealed her smile. He looked back at Draco. It comforted him to know that he could write his own stipulations into the marriage contract. He was sure that he could win Draco over. Lots of arranged marriages outlasted other ones. Love could grow organically, without being forced. In the end, it was just form of mutual respect.

He could build that with this guy. He had to think like that now, because there was no turning back. Draco Malfoy was not leaving his life until he’d given it his damnedest. And even then, he felt sure he could make that impossible. Draco’s was the kind of breeding that came with the ability to have children. That’s why his parents would’ve hidden him from common society, protecting their investment.

Fuck it, this marriage was happening. Happiness was the goal, but that wasn’t a deal breaker. He has seen the person he would risk it with, and the person he was going to have children with. And Harry was ready to do anything for him. He was willing to melt whatever challenge met him in Draco’s stare. And if he couldn’t, he’d always have the right share Draco’s bed. That alone, was worth agreeing to the marriage.

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[Top stories by this writer. ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)

Featured story:  [Cauldron ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813984/chapters/49474280)


	2. Prurient Formalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potters and the Malfoys meet to arrange a formal courtship between their sons.

He didn’t bolt. That let everyone know they had his attention. When Harry took the chair offered to him and sat down at the negotiations, everyone sighed in relief. His mother swallowed and said a prayer of thankfulness to whatever influence had her defiant son stopping short and heeling like a domesticated creature. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d insisted, “Marriage is such a personal decision, I have to make it myself. That way, if anything goes wrong, I have only myself to blame.”

She was proud of his sense of responsibility, but wanted him to know also, that there was no such thing as wrong, when two people were carving a path for themselves. “A marriage is what you make it, Harry. You can love anyone. That decision is less about them than it is about you. They’re simply fortunate that they reap the benefit of your affection. You are freer than you think, when it comes to deciding who you love. A contract might seem cold, but it really just simplifies the whole process.”

Beside her, her husband James squeezed her hand. They’d been fortunate enough to have a clearer understanding of their duties to their families at very young ages. Once James’s future wife was pointed out to him, during their grade school years, he lit up at the idea that someone could just give him another human being. A really pretty girl, no less. It was like an amazing inheritance. He didn’t have to go out and earn his fortune, toiling with bitter-sweet relationships and the scars they left, simply to justify some discovered happiness to himself and others. He’d been escorted right to the front of the line. He was grateful to his family for that. And Lily was as sharp as she was beautiful. Instead of stomping her foot about unfairness and the right to choose, she’d given him a chance. They’d latched on to each other all through school. He loved her before he ever liked her, and they both found that to be plenty to base an entire life on.

Their son was different. Harry didn’t seem to trust anything put in front of him, not without a thorough examination and assessment of how useful it was to him. He enjoyed people, but saw no need to tie himself to them. His ‘been there, done that’ attitude was reminiscent of someone determined not to get trapped in obligations built on the values of others. If it didn’t please him, he wasn’t going to keep it in his life, no matter how much it meant to the ones he loved. At three, when most children obeyed in response to doting affection, he had an uncanny ability to look his parents in the eye and say ‘no.’ His erratic magic slammed doors and shattered things, but never injured anyone, so his family wasn’t worried about the benevolence of his nature, just the vehemence behind it.

“It’s like he’s already who he’s going to be, inside that little body,” his mother told the Pediatric Mediwizard examining a diagnostic of Harry’s magic. “Like he already has experiences and he knows what he’s not going to repeat again.”

Juniper studied her wand scans in front of a lit screen the same way muggle doctors studied X-rays. Colorful patterns before her, created readable mappings of the characterizations of Harry’s magic. “Well, no child is a blank slate, as romantic as that idea is. We have only to read their magic to see that they come to us filled with wisdom and intention. The birth process wipes their memories, but deep inside, everyone knows who they are.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with the birth mark? Mine are on both my wrists, and my mother says it’s a reminder that I don’t want to injure myself the way I did before. A kind way of saying, ‘don’t slash your wrists over idiot men ever again.’ She says I let them tear me in two, giving one vein to each. I suppose that’s why I found it so easy to be with a husband chosen for me this time. Is Harry’s magic like that too?”

“Harry’s birthmark is significant to his magic. I’ve never seen a lightning shaped birthmark, but it stands to reason that the mark is a reminder to him just as yours is a private reminder to you. Every time he looks in the mirror, there’s something he wants himself to never forget. Your mother uses old magic without all the modern political correctness to filter it. I wouldn’t doubt if she already knows the answer to your question.”

“She just says, ‘Let him be. He’s been through enough,’ but she won’t say what. Doesn’t his scan tell you anything unusual about his magic?”

“Everything about it is unusual. But that’s because the Potter and Evans strains of blood have combined genetic markers and basically made choices that were not available until you two created a child together. Just because we see it in our scans, doesn’t mean that we can interpret everything down to its last, most specific meaning. Magic evolves. It’s as the Goblin records of your ancestry show, the oldest known line of magic had the greatest potential of reappearing in your son. Somewhat recessive in you, Harry’s DNA posed the right combination to unlock it. His birthmark could represent that very fact. In any case, his scans show all kinds of variances that we don’t fully understand, but no two magical people are alike. I see nothing concerning.”

Lily nodded. “Just be glad he’s healthy, I guess. Just be glad he’s a sweetheart and not the terror some souls are dealt.”

“Children are very intuitive. I’ll bet, once he’s old enough and has the vocabulary, if you ask him, he’ll tell you more about his birthmark than anyone can.”

Lily smiled at that. Something about Juniper’s words rang true. “Thank you, I bet you’re right.”

As he grew, whenever the subject of his lightning shaped birth mark stood prominent in her mind, she’d stroke his hair aside to uncover its hidden place above his eyebrow. She always steadied herself, as if really asking if she wanted to know. If her own birthmarks linked her to an unpleasant past, was it fair to ask a child to remember what his was? Even a magical child, who’s green eyes danced with secrets and invitation.

She realized eventually that when she looked into him and held her questions back, he connected with her and his unspoken reply was a stream of images and sensations that fed her curiosity, whether he realized it or not. Flashes of green made her rethink her desire to know. Unnatural pulses in her heart scared her. She felt the cardiac muscle stumble off rhythm, grasped her chest, and decided that people get fresh starts for a reason. Memories are wiped clear for a very good reason. No point dredging up things that couldn’t be undone.

Now at twenty-two, Harry and she still shared that connection. Anything she wanted to know, his psyche emitted volumes of signals that her mind turned into meaning. Her ability to interpret what came to her was subject to error, but after twenty-two years, she always got the core of the matter right. And she knew just how much her Harry was intrigued by this new suitor.

James, standing on the outside of this connection, had always been fond of warning her that their son was growing up and it would be difficult for her to let go. “You have to give him room. Some would say your involvement is excessive, even for a mother.”

She’d long ago adapted to the cruel streak in his sense of humor, and knew that he was joking. No words could get a rile out of her faster than the insinuation that she was unhealthily attached to her child. She’d whirl, sending her red hair on flight, pulling her shoulders back and lowering her pitch exactly when most women would raise theirs. “He came through me. You have no idea what that’s like. He’s my one purpose and I’m not going to fail.”

They both knew James’s comment was meant to do nothing more than heat up the blood in her cheeks and perhaps lead to apologies in their bedroom. But she took the opportunity to tell him something as if she’s never told him before, even though she’s said it more times than it was rational to say. And still, she said it as if she could not say it enough, because he was incapable of hearing what she truly meant.

“I feel like I can’t take anything for granted with him. He’s too special. We have a connection and I know I came into this world to make sure his life thrives. You know I love you, but once I used my body to let him come into this world, I became responsible in a way that you didn’t. If you ever wanted to leave us, you could. But I couldn’t. I feel like it’s greater than our magic, like it’s what magic is for. He’s a really great soul and I’m like a centurion. I have a mission. There’s no room for failure. I have a job to do, to see that he reaches his full purpose. If people want to make fun of me for being too close to my son for that, then all of you can go to hell.”

“Hon, you’re not being graded on this, and you’re not the only mum who thinks her kid is the heavens and the stars.”

“No, the urgency over this, feels like I can fail. Like I did fail, and this is another chance. My last chance. When I think of something going wrong, or losing him, I feel like I was robbed of this chance to give him everything he needs to become a happy, well-adjusted person in this world. I feel like that was ripped from me, right out of my chest.” Her bony fist beat against her breastplate.

“I know, that’s irrational but that’s how it feels. And now the only thing I want in life is to see him grown, with a family of his own. That’s how I’ll know the curse is broken, because that’s what it feels like. I can’t rest until I’m holding the grandchild that he gives me. That’s when this feeling will go away. I know it.”

James knew there was no point in trying to reason with her. When it came to protecting their babies, a mother’s instincts erred on the side of deadly rather than rationale. Secretly, her readiness to drop all demure refinement and fight if she had to, stirred excitement as well as pride. Her temperament was so confident and serene most of the time, that displays of anger or any raw emotion, was equal parts thrilling and awe-inspiring. Aside from the bedroom, it was the only time he got to see her whole body worked into a frenzy befitting her provocative power as a witch.

Their son had not only taken a seat among those deciding his right to court the Malfoy heir, but had, with perfect etiquette, commanded a grace that came out of no where, that granted him permission to rectify his choice in dress, return to his room and to spell any appropriate changes he felt necessary. He’d shown up in jeans the first time, and compromised formality by wearing a casual blazer. He’d taken one look at Draco Malfoy, froze in paralysis, then roused from it to backtrack his way into a finer suit of clothes.

His parents knew that he would, left on his own, present a lackluster image, which they could do nothing about. They’d discussed letting the Malfoys see what they were really getting. No point in hiding who Harry was behind glamour. Harry’s insistence on a “regular Joe” appearance had them poised to argue the point that his quality lay in his person, not his clothing. They knew the Malfoys, conservatively dressed to the height of their wealth, would see his lack of refinement as a strike against them. But Harry’s magic was far older, and far more potent than theirs. They would not be intimidated into thinking their family did not bring as much to the table as the Malfoys, if not more.

To everyone’s shock, Harry’s apology had sounded sincere. He’d turned to the head of the Malfoy family, where his supplication was the most appropriate. “My apologies, Sir. I expected just another applicant I’d have to turn away. There’s no point in going through formalities and wasting everyone’s time. It’s my personal policy to let people know up front what my answer is, instead of stringing things along. If you’ll excuse me for making you wait, I would like to beg ten minutes to match my clothing to the quality of this day, and to your company.” His eyes shifted to Draco, who revealed nothing.

“I had no idea your son would be so exceptional. I want to put my best foot forward when it comes to anyone I’m to seriously consider for marriage.”

Try as he might, he was unable to read what stirred behind Draco’s perfect, unsmiling mask. “Until today, that has never been a reality.”

Lucius Malfoy looked down his elegant nose at Harry. “If you must.”

Lucius wasn’t going to go out of his way to put Harry at ease. The young man’s lack of forethought was a strike against him, and the frost in his tone let everyone know it. Contempt for one’s traditions was hardly a way to start an arranged relationship.

His tone, Lily, calculated, held back an admission that he might’ve been impressed at Harry’s back peddle from the obvious shock of being presented with his son. But Mr. Malfoy wasn’t going to reveal anything until Harry exhibited the proper respect and quality of behavior that his Blood-Pedigree, certified within the archives of Gringotts, said that he possessed.

The glacier grey in Mr. Malfoy’s stare warned Harry, ‘Don’t blow it. My son is worth all the ceremony and pomp that your generation spits on. This whole affair is about magic. This meeting is but one note of preparation in a very elaborate spell. Show me that you have the intelligence to comprehend that, and you shall win my son. Allow your dense whims to overthrow your values, and this will be the last you see of him. We’re not playing games, Mr. Potter. This world has someone fit for my son and we will move on.’

Harry saw where the frost came from in Draco’s clear-sky eyes. Apparently, the chill was a first defense mechanism. It worked.

He had changed and returned as quickly as possible. His spells included extra cleansing and hygiene choices, layered with subtle cologne blends, and polished in a suit of black linen, pale blue shirt, satin tie, and a fresh trim to his two-week old hair cut.

While his suit was not as expensive as Draco’s fine Italian ensemble, its cut flattered Harry’s build and charmed the eyes. His family had no where near the money the Malfoys had, and so kept their clothes practical. His father had come into a couple of significant inheritances alongside his jewelry business and did quite well for his family. James Potter didn’t just make jewelry, he customized spells and charms that activated upon being worn. The jewelry could be as whimsical as diet mood rings that abated cravings, medical crystals that worked in conjunction with prescription potions, to wedding rings that ensured fidelity. Financially, the Potters were well off, but it was always the lore of the Potter name that seemed to open doors for them and extended their credit. If money was the bane of muggle existence, then magic was the double-edged sword that gave wizards their wholeness, while at the same time inspiring fears of great loss. Once you have it, you fear to lose it.

Harry had no designs to join the family business, but he did enjoy learning the craftsmanship alongside his passion for quidditch. He even studied abroad for his certification in cutting and setting. As long as he wasn’t pressured by accounting and marketing details, he found it easy to make his own money online, selling astrologically designed bracelets that boosted the wearers proficiency at any skill by fifty percent. He couldn’t guarantee that everyone would experience that exact percentage boost, but he had documentation that some did. Crystal worshiping muggles were his biggest customers, from athletes to writers. Apparently, there was a huge niche to fill in inspiring people to their dreams. He liked to think of himself as specializing in ways for people to tap their own power. When you have so much magic, and others seem to have none, you can’t stand it.

His low-key business was his way of making sure people found their magic, even if they were muggles or squibs. And because the transactions were automated, that left him the freedom to enjoy a position with the professional quidditch team, the Sky Razors, as one of their reserve players. He didn’t have to maintain any high profile to protect his place on the team, simply keep his skills sharp and show up when they needed him. Between his bracelets and quidditch, his magic cycled through each in a way that kept his energy in balance. It was a good life, and the idea of opening it up to another, had never been tempting until now.

He liked the convenience of living at home and not having to think about things like grocery shopping or cooking. His finances allowed him to hold his head high while he reaped the benefits of regularly laundered clothes, consistent meals, and all the privileges of bachelorhood. When he dated, or needed privacy, he used his parent’s guest house. Putting his magic into his bracelets, from sketch to clasp, fed his desire to see the looks of awe and appreciation in others faces when they felt it. It was a tangible magic. One his father warned him not to use excessively.

“You can put everything you’ve got into a piece, but if the wearer’s natural circuits are closed or clogged, the magic will affect them adversely. Cultivate the best spells that line your bracelets up with the right person for them,” was his advise. Though he had never succeeded, in his heart, Harry felt that it should’ve been possible to develop prosthetic jewelry, and had even worked out the science behind why and how it could work. Some of his favorite fantasies were of seeing gold ankle cuffs, emitting a frequency that nerve endings detected, and enabling paraplegics to walk.

He did have guilty pleasures of envisioning himself winning a Nobel Prize, but that was only because he knew that, as modest as his bracelets were, his intentions were great. He didn’t need for any fantasy to become real, to enjoy what he did. Besides, all of it felt like he was taking baby steps to something much greater, and this was just one tiny segment that needed to be ironed out. If it was easier for him to live at home right now, then so be it. It let him think and create with his magic the way he needed to. It was pure freedom and he couldn’t have planned it better if he’d scripted it.

The sight of Draco brought all of that to a halt. Whatever music had been playing, whatever waltz Harry had been dancing his way through life to, screeched to a violent stop, wrecking what had only a moment ago been the sound of delicious freedom.

When Harry looked at Draco, he knew that he was never going to be free again. And the worst thing was, that felt like the best thing ever.

Polishing his appearance, was all done with an arsenal of last-minute spells that had him nervous that his reflection now showed a person trying way too hard. He wondered if he looked desperate. But this is how he looked when others, who were not his mother, went on and on about how handsome he was. This was how he looked when women asked him for his phone number in coffee houses, and when guys flailed next to him on the dance floor before making their offer to buy him a drink seem spontaneous and casual, and not hot for him at all. He wasn’t a social animal, but he did seek people and festive company when he could do no more with his work or his athletic prowess.

He knew that he was good looking, people had always assured him of that, he just didn’t care. But now that he’d seen Draco, he decided to push his strengths to the front. Prince Draco Malfoy was going to be his husband. Now was not the time to be shy. A whiff of insecurity over Draco’s Royal status, had him shoving it back down. Even the Malfoys didn’t use their titles, and had requested that they not be addressed or curtsied to, in ways that were out of fashion. In a political climate where Aristocratic Peerage was far from popular, no one wanted reminders of the things one’s ancestors did to gain those titles. In an age of DNA investigation, no one wanted their rights, deeds, and lands, contested. If no one sees your shiny status, no one can attack it. That much of the Malfoy strategy was clear. That had to have been the tactic taken with their shiny son. Oh, they weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to let anyone know how wealthy they were. But their lips were sealed on the history behind it. A few umbrella corporations and presto, it would appear to the world as if you’re a self-made wizard from a long line of self-made wizards.

There was something called the Rift. It was said to be a geographical place that represented where the histories of magical people and non-magical, went their separate ways. All wizards knew that those worlds never really separated, but the wizarding one more or less developed ways of hiding itself as everyone else around them evolved. In that nebulous lore, filled with foreboding landscapes and lawless magic, Kingdoms still existed. They rose out of mist-covered battlefields, where wars were fought, not with armies, but with sorcery. And Royalty still meant something. It wouldn’t have surprised Harry if Lucius Malfoy sat so erect and righteous in his self-appointed nobility, because his title crossed boundaries within that world. Why he couldn’t just find a match for his son in a place where kingdoms were more common than outside of the Rift, Harry didn’t know. But it must’ve had something to do with greed for magic.

Harry’s father had told him long ago, “Our family cut off ties with the old ways for a reason. We like peace. We like laws that try to protect everyone, whether they have magic or not. The stories from my family warn never to go looking for the Rift. It takes a different breed of wizard to tolerate that way of life. We belong here now. Grandad’s stories say don’t look back. Never look back. We got out with our magic and that’s more important than maintaining ties with a culture unwilling to change and grow.”

Harry had no interest in dredging up any connections to long lost worlds. He would have to find out what strings were attached to the betrothal. Surely the Malfoys would not be here if his parents hadn’t approved of whatever background they’d investigated. If Mr. Malfoy had ties to the Rift, it couldn’t be anything as dark as family stories implied. His Dad wasn’t going to show him something like Draco, without it being a safe and secure option for marriage. If he was going to play the game, he had to trust his parents on this. That’s what Lucius’s glare had challenged him to do. ‘Are you in, Mr. Potter? Do you wish to play your part or don’t you? You cannot win this prize until you join us properly.’

And what a fucking prize!

Draco’s presence, deterring silence and all, only promised more intrigue. Harry had met some shallow, empty people in his time, and he knew he ran the risk of marrying the ultimate facade. But that’s not what Draco’s energy said. That’s not what his magic radiated. There was something worth discovering beneath that guy’s marble exterior. What Harry sensed of his magic, was like a geode filled with crystal formations, undetectable with the naked eye, but when opened, filled with every light-splitting facet of magic possible. Of course Lucius Malfoy would search far and wide for an equivalent match. He might even leave his kingdom to follow the trails of the oldest bloodlines. Of course he would shroud his true line of work in secrecy, in a muggle world, and he would test Harry’s weaknesses before signing him into the family.

It doesn’t matter, Mr. Malfoy. I’m still going to nail your son.

That thought gripped his gut and had him bracing himself through the idea of it. He tried to be more respectful but it just kept hitting him until he spoke it out loud. “Oh my god. I’m going to marry that guy. I’m going to sleep with him. This is real.”

His entire life had either jumped course or turned onto a key road. Either way, his appearance was a big deal. Mr. Malfoy was going to be his father-in-law. They might be royals, but Harry’s family had the magic they wanted. Harry knew he didn’t have to feel inferior to the Malfoys in any way, just because his family worked. In fact, his marriage would do better and be far stronger if he got rid of feelings like that and embraced his sense of entitlement. Don’t fear the monster. Meet it head on.

If his magic could attract something as intriguing as Draco Malfoy across its path, then he would hold his head high and claim the prize the Universe was offering him. He had no idea what to do with a husband, but that guy sitting as beautiful as anything he’d ever seen crafted, was his opportunity to find out. A rare bird, frostbitten, and indifferent. Arctic, with silver ice in his hair and blue glacier caves in his stare, he inspired a creative flame in Harry’s magic. Harry warmed, forging his intention to melt Draco’s frozen, unrelenting landscape.

He returned to the formal meeting room and took the seat waiting for him beside his parents. He tried to look at Draco without it seeming aggressive, while simultaneously avoiding his mother’s smirk. She knew she’d been right, there was no point in giving her more fuel. In fact, he was still fairly embarrassed at how obvious his sudden interest must seem, but to hell with it. There was only one person in this room who’s opinion really mattered right now, and he had to get past Lucius Malfoy to get to him.

He was new at this whole formal thing, but he remembered something about the rules his parents had tried to drill into him. ‘These people will look for old etiquette, the old language of magic. It will put them at ease to see that you speak it. So even the meeting will be a ritual. If you’re serious about it, you will use the red silk napkin. If you remain in need of convincing, you will use the white one. You’re allowed to sip your tea when you hear something in the offer that appeals to you. Draco will do the same. If you hear a detail that you’re not keen on, don’t touch your cup. That will signal to us where to push and where to ease up in our negotiations. Everything presented, is an offer to go to the next step. If Draco does not touch either of his napkins, he is not interested in continuing further. If you let this be enough communication between you, while the elders set the most basic terms, you two may write your own stipulations into the marriage contract once the courtship is legally agreed upon.’

When he took his seat, he stated his full name, took the red napkin folded at an angle by his saucer, and placed it to the right of his cup. His parents didn’t keep house elves, but had hired a caterer to manage the timing of tea and desserts between signatures. The witch pouring Harry’s tea was a professional who kept her eyes forward and their cups steaming. He was glad he knew spells to cool hot things, considering how prominent all the signals would be over the next two hours or so.

There were seven formal stages, depending on the structure chosen. Both families had agreed on a foundation of old magic and modern ethics. The parents would define courtship procedures and everyone would agree upon them. Parents would set rules of conduct, which could be strict or very lenient, and write in the official date that marked them as engaged. They would insist that the boys adhere to ritual every step of the way, but let them adjust in phases. Give them a chance to come to agreement on their own terms.

If that didn’t work, the ceremony of each formal meeting would work its own spell. The women had already exchanged follicles of their sons’ hair and neither boy was any wiser that it floated at the bottom of tea cups waiting for them. Afterwords, the cups would be retrieved and Lucius would feign a five minute distraction as he and James completed a brief fire ceremony in which their children’s bond was offered to their ancestors to watch over and bless with certain union.

Once Harry spoke his full name to the group and invoked his magic to come to the foreground of their intentions by moving his napkin, Lucius looked to James Potter, who delivered a formal speech of welcome and a recital of what they were all there for. The ritual had begun. Lucius led the others in sipping his tea, as was the customary response of acceptance to the Potter’s request to allow the courtship of their sons. When all six drank, the act completed a circuit that identified the roles and wishes of all present at the table. The air thickened as unseen specters and ancestors entered to bear witness. In adjoining rooms, James’s mother, her two sisters, and Lily’s mother and uncle entertained themselves as they waited for the outcome.

For Lucius, it was all contingent on whether Harry Potter exhibited the value his documented pedigree promised. The Potters were not purebloods, but the most potent strains of magic could be traced to James Potter’s forebears, at least one of which connected him to Lucius’s wife, Narcissa. Her maiden name, Black, could also be found in the archives of Potter’s ancestral vaults. The match between their children was already ordained in greater worlds. The Potters had only to please Lucius’s discerning eye, to make it so in this one.

Lucius knew he had to relinquish his hold on his son’s incalculable worth and spotless qualities eventually. As loyal to his family as he was, Draco was showing signs of restlessness. Behind the artistry of boyish looks, manhood was beginning to feel a little cramped and his clipped responses of late were his way of showing it. He was growing tired of the game, Lucius knew. No matter how pretty Draco was, he was still more man than child and organizing his life around an arranged marriage was no where near the satisfaction other men were enjoying at his age. He felt it. He resented it, but dutifully kept silent on the subject as the perfect display of trust in his father’s judgment.

Lucius glanced at Draco and met with poised resolve. Just as he’d been taught, Draco kept his expression polite enough to deter criticism, but cool enough to discourage conversation. Lucius had noticed subtle changes when Harry arrived, but Draco hid them before he could be called upon it.

He’s obedient and wise, Lucius reasoned, at the thought of his son’s silence. But a deeper voice admitted that he had never encouraged Draco to attune to emotions, or even to open up to him. ‘You don’t know that his silence has anything to do with obedience,’ that deeper voice said. ‘You look at him and his eyes are as accusing as they are a perfect imitation of your judgment. You do not ask his opinion, for fear of what he will say. No father has the right to imprison his son to keep their family magic intact.’

Harry wasn’t the only one refusing suitors over the last three years. If Draco’s parents didn’t find a match for him soon, they would loose him to the folly of finding no one to fit their standards. At twenty-two, their selectiveness had already, easily, become a source of torment.

Narcissa had been the first to comment after a tense moment had Draco turning on his heels to keep from disrespecting the both of them. They had just announced that he would be meeting the next potential suitor on the list. Weary to the point of illness, he couldn’t hide his anger. They saw it flash, bone hard in his mild features.

Narcissa had placed thin hands on her husband’s shoulders afterwords. “Perhaps this has gone on too long. He’s not going to choose. He’s not happy with any of them. It’s time to admit that we don’t know what’s best for him. Can’t you see how unhappy he is?”

He’d grasped her wrists with gentleness. “Diligence now, pleasure later. He’ll thank us when he realizes that he can paint any landscape, any fulfillment, on the canvas of his marriage. You know exactly what our contract was based upon. If he doesn’t marry correctly and produce a child, our magic as well as our holdings deteriorate. That goes for every relative who shares our heritage. We all give our children in this way, or we lose the right to call ourselves wizards. Fortunes can be rebuilt, but there’s not a magical depository on this earth from which we can mine all that we’ve risen to become through our blood practices. We’ve raised Draco to understand that. He accepts it.”

“I know, and I agree. But he’s so young. He needs to date. You should let him see someone. You should let him engage in natural acts. A girlfriend, a boyfriend, as long as their records meet with our approval. Either way, we must be realistic. We’re making him feel like he can’t grow up. Let him engage in activity that is healthy, that would embarrass him to get caught in. We did. Let’s give him permission to choose. He’ll have to marry this Harry Potter but he can still choose his real lovers. Not everyone can be as lucky as you and I.”

A loud breath, louder than he intended, betrayed his impatience. “Luck had nothing to do with it. We were paired before our parents ever met. We can’t compromise him like that. I want to see him well adjusted to the marriage just as much as you do, but you know the contract. If I were to make such choices available to him, it would defeat the entire purpose of engineering his magic to allow his body to carry children. We made that decision before he was born. We were very fortunate to find specialists who could not only help us conceive our own child, but make sure he was born with the best qualities inherent in both of us.

Narcissa had let go of him, tired of hearing what she already knew.

“They warned us that you would never be able to carry another child, so we secured that advantage the best way we knew how. Our line must continue. Our magic must continue. Draco’s body will make sure that he conceives with the first man he lies with. We might be able to get beautiful, averagely magical children from any powerful witch he impregnates, but our chances for the strongest, comes from him being able to carry a powerful wizard’s child. Those doctors only saw him with one opportunity to produce a single offspring, just as they did with you. I can’t have dating and illicit affairs contaminating our results.”

Instead of abating, Narcissa tried harder. “And he resents it so. He won’t open up to me, but I see it. We could have his encounters chaperoned. We could see that certain acts are allowed and others avoided. One does not have to commit to intercourse to achieve the same ends. Girls can think of ways around pregnancy. He can be a normal young man without jeopardizing anything.”

Lucius retaliated. “What female would you trust to be that close to our son and not produce an unwanted heir with her advantage? These are witches, who know their way around the potency of a man’s sperm, not some muggle debutantes waiting for one perfect day of wedding bliss to make them complete. Draco’s essence is not to be taken for granted or allowed to escape him until he’s done his duty to our family. And even then, he’d be wise to use his husband for such relief instead of wasting himself on the risk of illegitimate children. Better he accepts his constraints now than try to outrun them later.”

Now, at the head of the table, James Potter read both Harry’s and Draco’s introductory biographies out loud. Harry cringed. Aside from relevant information pertaining to birthplace and schooling, Harry’s read like a tacky dating profile. “In his free time Harry enjoys customizing therapeutic jewelry and playing professional quidditch.”

When it came to Draco’s profile, James let everyone know that Draco’s education consisted of private tutors and Swiss boarding schools, with a particular emphasis on Music Theory and Classical Piano. Draco played twelve instruments. Apparently, he was a virtuoso who had auditioned his way into Conservatoire de Musique, in Geneva Switzerland, and intended to pursue his Masters in America, at Julliard in New York. He’d won awards for developing a music program that taught blind children how to play piano.

Learning this, along with Harry’s deep appreciation for music and art, did make Harry feel small. His attendance at a Scotland Boarding school had been all the academic structure Harry could take. While he loved learning magic, he didn’t miss the rigorous demands on his time and energy and hadn’t given a thought to attending college. When he wanted to learn a new skill, he simply paid for individual classes or workshops and went at it at his own pace.

By the time his father stopped reading Draco’s accomplishments and awards, Harry was a little starstruck. He looked at Draco, who now seemed just as lovely on the inside as he appeared on the outside.

Next, assets that came with the marriage, were presented by each head of family. If Harry married Draco, the title of Prince would be bestowed and adapted into all documentation identifying him. In Wizarding culture, it was one that had to be taken seriously. It came with Trusts, lands, gold, and other forms of wealth, but Lucius was quick to point out that public usage of the title was frowned upon in the modern world and that it would be considered poor taste to use the title as a crutch. And should he and Draco proceed beyond courtship to an actual marriage, only a portion of the holdings transferred to Harry. The rest would not, until the two produced their most binding pledge to one another and to both families. A child.

“We have to know that your son can sire a child. Likewise, we can produce medical documentation that Draco has the capacity to bear one.”

Harry purposely kept his eyes on his tea. That sounded oddly to him like a request for medical testing. Did Mr. Malfoy just say he was going to have to wank in a cup? He shushed himself so that he could hear exactly what was being said about Draco’s side of it.

“My son is a perfectly formed male. He could very well sire a child himself, but the strain of magic we’re seeking, passes from the membrane that is formed when a wizard’s body internalizes the seed of another.”

Harry was proud of himself for not making a face and gagging, although he did close his eyes against Mr. Malfoy’s bluntness. He didn’t have the courage to see what Draco’s face was doing. While he understood and respected the mechanics of male-birthology, the words being spoken in relation to what was expected of him, were still embarrassing.

“As you are an old family, you must know that this is a genetic trait deliberately cultivated and sought to allow wizards incumbent combinations of their magic. Latent, internal structures are triggered toward activation and a wizard’s body then creates an environment in which childbirth is possible. When not pregnant, it returns to its normal male state. If Harry wishes to court my son, he will have to agree to testing that validates his qualifications.”

In the resounding silence, James Potter cleared his throat. “We are aware of Draco’s rare qualities and we agree that this is a desirable attribute to pass on to our grandchildren.” He gave a calculated pause, during which everything got strangely quiet. Too quiet. Harry looked up. He saw them looking back, and then remembered to pick up his tea and drink from it. All too aware of his slowness being misinterpreted, he gulped to compensate and it sounded like loud, uncouth slurps against the silence.

He sat the cup down. His peripheral twitched to catch Draco rolling his eyes. Cheeks heated, he couldn’t know if it was because of his clumsiness, his lack of sophistication with napkin and tea codes, or if Draco thought he was some kind of phobic snob when it came to men having babies. The idea was still a hostile one in cultures that knew nothing of magic, so wizards kept it to themselves. Muggles prided themselves on technology but failed to give up prejudices that would allow them to conquer equality among genders and their fertility issues. Just because he’d grown up with a foothold in the muggle world, didn’t mean he was like that.

He tried to let his father know that he appreciated being asked if he was okay with it. That was part of the gusto behind the slurping. He would have to be sure to let Draco know that he was mature enough to handle it.

When James brought his hands together loudly, Harry jumped. He wasn’t the only one and he saw his father take delight in waking them all up. James lifted a parchment that had begun to glow orange. He waved his wand over it and the parchment’s color returned to normal. He unfolded it and read, “I am legally required to say this. Harry James Potter, you have reached the third tier to your formal betrothal. Gringotts underwriters record your votes at a ninety-five percent approval of all that you’ve heard. Are you still in favor of matrimony to Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy?”

As he’d learned to do on cue over the last two hours, Harry sipped his tea in response.

“You may answer with a spoken word for this, Harry.”

“Oh, yes then. Yes.”

“Would you like to continue these proceedings?”

“Yes.” His nod was certain. His father winked at him and turned to Draco.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, Gringotts puts your vote at forty-one percent approval of all that you’ve heard. It looks like you are not convinced. However, you too have reached the third tier to your formal betrothal. Would you like to rescind your application at this point or are you willing to allow Harry the opportunity to persuade you further?”

It was no surprise to anyone when Draco looked at his father before answering. “No. I’ll continue.”

“In spite of your lack of enthusiasm, are you still in favor of matrimony, with all that you’ve heard discussed so far, to my son, Harry James Potter?”

Draco’s face went grimacing. It was clear to Harry that he did not appreciate Jame’s liberties with his words, but didn’t want to risk any penalty by saying so. Not yet anyway. “Yes,” he said tightly.

Harry was torn between relief and seeing that his father had clearly upset Draco by calling him out in front of everyone. Maybe it wasn’t easy seeing your son treated as though he wasn’t good enough, no matter how fair you tried to be. With another wave of his wand, Draco’s written answer burned itself into the parchment before it glowed orange again and faded from the surface of the table.

James told them, “There, that wasn’t too bad. There were no outbursts, no rejections, you boys behaved yourselves while we discussed your Certificates of Intentions and Legal Mediation of Assets. For that, you are now granted speaking privileges should you want to comment on any of the details set forth by us, your parents and Elders.”

He expounded, “From here, we move on to Demands and Terms, discussing Courtship Proper, then the wedding. But before we move on, it is customary to reward your patience with a twenty-minute interval of monitored conference between you. You will be granted a private audience with one another, without our supervision, simply to assist in your acquaintance. However, it will not be entirely private. The Malfoys have provided house elves to mediate the appropriateness of your behavior while we leave you alone together. Even if you reject the idea of marriage at this point, you are both bound by the applications that you signed to honor a chaste system of checks and balances until your wedding night. That involves wards, charms, chastity barriers, you name it. You are not engaged at this point, simply qualifying for that outcome.”

The two could hardly believe it when their parents got up from the table and left them with the room to themselves. Draco was the first to stand, and Harry understood why. His long legs must’ve needed stretching. He turned his back to Harry, pulled at the base of his spine and walked to the far end of the room where floor-to-ceiling windows flattered his vertical shape among them. The windows overlooked the Potter’s modest garden, but since everything was in bloom, thanks to his mother’s magic, Draco’s slender build was cast in the most favorable botanical background imaginable. Harry smiled at the thought of having Draco live here, coming and going and sharing this house with him.

His own ass had fallen asleep and he took the opportunity to stretch and massage the circulation back into it. It felt only natural to join Draco by the windows, which were lightly tinted and still let in sheets of rays that fell across Draco’s face and shoulders in delicious ways. In shadow, Draco’s hair was pale gold. In direct sunlight, it was the color of clouds. Of Angel wings. Harry dared to approach as close as he could without startling Draco. Twenty minutes wasn’t very long and he knew he’d regret not taking full advantage of the moment. He fixed his mouth to comment on being honored to have Draco consider him for marriage. Draco spoke first.

“I’ll marry you, but I won’t have a kid until I’m ready. And the marriage will be in legal form only. Name only. I have someone in my life. He’s everything to me, and I’m not giving him up.”

That was a blow, and it took Harry a moment to pick himself up from it. All he could ask was, “You don’t plan on being faithful to me?”

“I’m telling you so that you’ll know what you’re getting up front. Just as you said to my father. My life is very much established and it does not begin with meeting you. If our parents want an arrangement, they’ll just have to be realists about it. If not, I’ll never marry anyone.”

Harry took the pain in his chest for disappointment and tried to think his way clear of it. “But you’d lose a significant portion of your magic. And your money. Your wealth is tied to it.”

“I don’t care. I’ve spent my life proving that I can take care of myself should they play the disinheritance card. They need me more than I need them.”

“Don’t you love them?” He meant to use the word ‘honor’ but what he really felt crept in.

“Of course I do. But love doesn’t fix this kind of thing. It only makes it worse. There’s no good in asking someone to love and honor someone they don’t. They’re asking too much of me and they know it.”

“Is it asking too much to give me a chance?”

“What do you think I’m doing here? I showed up. I’m disclosing information that lets you make a very informed decision.”

“You’re pushing me away. That’s why you’re telling me the harshest information imaginable.”

Draco snickered. “You think that’s the worst I can do? Look, I have someone that I’m already faithful to. He accepts that I’m willing to marry for my family and coexist in that capacity with him. I’m doing you a favor by telling you. We’ve been together three years. I have no intention of dumping him.”

Harry leapt to have his say. “I plan on being faithful to you.”

Draco paused, disarmed. Doubt appeared instead of a proper response.

Harry was sure of those words, but he was still figuring out the next as he spoke them. “I could write a tolerance clause into our contract that would let you take a lover without violating our marriage. I could give you permission.”

Tentatively, “You’d do that?”

“No. You and I will never have a chance of being happy as along as Mr. Third is around. I’ve heard of three-party arrangements, but I want to be secure with my primary spouse before I wrap my head around another one. You and I need years to become accustomed to one another. We need to build trust. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you keep him.”

Scathing now. “Let me? You have no dominance over me. All I have to do is walk out of here.”

“I’m not trying to control you or assert my dominance. Not over you, at any rate. My competition perhaps, but not you. You’ve been honest with me. I like that. Maybe you’re trying to protect me, maybe you’re not. Either way, I’ve made up my mind to marry for my own reasons. Are you sexually active with this man?”

“That’s none of your business.”  
Harry could’ve argued the point, but said instead, “I’ll take that as a yes. Three years is a long time to abstain.”

“And yet people do.”

Harry stepped closer. When sirens didn’t alarm and none of the contract security appeared in the form of elves or barrier charms, he stepped into Draco’s personal space. Draco leaned back. Harry suspected chastity alarms were activated by the breech of physical contact, so he was careful to leave an inch between them. Draco tried to hold his ground, but expressed tight-lipped annoyance at whatever Harry was doing.

Harry was testing Draco. He felt, with the extension of his own body emanation, for Draco’s sphere of influence. Everyone has one, extending at least six feet from their body, depending on emotional factors. A lot further if they practiced deliberate use of it. His bracelets worked with that kind of energy. With Draco, he felt it in the others body heat. He tried to get a hint of the warmth itself, instead of Draco’s light aftershave. Blushing, but defensive, flushing but responsive, Draco stubbornly waited for Harry to explain himself. Those three seconds were enough for Harry to inhale his scent and to memorize what the perspiration evaporating off of Draco’s body told him. It was a test of sexual response. He backed away.

“Your body knows what sexual indulgence feels like. It’s accustomed to it. You have some experience. Virgins tremble when they’re this close to someone who wants them. You haven’t been completely honest.”

Draco shoved him away. “I’ve been more honest than you deserve.”

The act of touching, caused an elf to appear. Harry took another step back as the elf inserted himself between the two. The little creature wore a smock of dark blue, said nothing, and set about activating several layers of barrier charms. It held up two fingers, eyeing both boys with the faintest of judgment before popping back to its station and out of sight.

“See what you’ve done?” Draco huffed. “This is a penalty, now we have to tack on an extra meeting to remove this mark against us. My father’s going to question me to no end. They trusted us.”

“They still trust us. The elf has to tell them what kind of infringement it was. I got too close, you did your duty.”

“You better hope my father sees it that way.”

“Your father thinks you’re a virgin.”

“I told you, I have someone very special in my life. Infer what you will.”

“And I told you, as open as I am to your past, I’m not willing to share you. My intention is to win your affections, not force them. But I can’t do that if you’re too busy running back and forth to him. Give me two years to prove myself to be a husband of equal or greater quality than he is. I will not grant extramarital activity of any kind. Use me for your needs. I won’t even exert my rights to your bed unless I’m invited. But marry me with the full commitment that your parents intend. Be faithful. This marriage needs to get off on the best start possible.”

Draco appeared to recover from Harry’s infringement. He straightened. When he did, the invisible barrier around him pushed into Harry, forcing him another step back. “I’ve given my answer. I have someone else.”

“And I’ve given you mine. Do your parents know that there’s someone else, and you’re still willing to go through with it if you get to keep him?”

“They don’t care. They don’t take anything I want seriously. Go ahead, tell them. I’ll just walk out that much faster.”

Before Harry could reply, his father stuck his head inside. “I’m afraid time is up, gentlemen.” He cracked a mirth filled smile. “Judging by the tension in the room, I’m going to say that you two know each other quite a bit better than you did twenty minutes ago.”

When no one laughed, he seemed to find that even funnier. Shaking his head, he entered the room and brought the rest of the party with him. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. One day, you’ll see how funny this is. Your Gringotts’ compatibility scores, by blood, put you in the high seven hundreds, yet your cooperation scores have a disparage of fifty-four percent.”

Lucius’s head jerked in his direction. “Sir, you are not to share that information with them until the end of their courtship.”

“Oops,” James chuckled. “Look how tense they are. Is that fair to them? My son will only do this once, I want it to be a day he enjoys looking back on. If you marry into this family, you marry my sense of humor.”

Lucius bit back his complaint with that, but puffiness in his expression spoke his true feelings. “As long as your son exhibits the qualities that your documents promise, you may joke your way through these proceedings. Now that they’ve had their twenty minutes of private conversation, shall we find out if they still wish to court their way to a proper engagement?”

All eyes turned to Harry and Draco.

“I do,” Harry was quick to affirm, leaving Draco to deal with his trailing hesitation.

Draco hardened his resolve. “I’m willing.”

Harry understood. Draco meant to sustain the illusion of his willingness until Harry denied him the right to bring his boyfriend into the picture. Then it would look like Harry was the one being uncooperative and unyielding.

“Delightful. Lets proceed to the medical tests.” Everyone took their seat. Fresh tea waited.

“Our Physician is on stand-by to evaluate Harry’s eligibility. This requires a full scan of his physical health as well as his magic, and a letter of reproductive integrity. Is there any reason why Mr. Potter cannot complete his medical tests today? The sooner we have his scores, the sooner we can establish courtship dates, providing his results leave no doubt as to whether or not he’s fit to produce an heir.”

When everyone looked at him, Harry let his eyes linger on Draco, who said nothing. The guy was really going to make him give a sperm count? If he had to drop his pants over someone who was making it this difficult, he decided he wasn’t doing it alone. Why was the burden of proof put on him?”

His father seemed to know that he wanted an answer to that question. “It’s just a preliminary, Harry. Draco’s paper work already provides proof that he’s been subjected to the same testing. His medical records are notarized for the purpose of this arrangement.”

Notarized? What good did that do? “But are they current? How regularly are they updated? He’s capable of being impregnated. Just like a woman’s, his sexual status can change at any time, and how will you know?”

Lucius went rigid. “How dare you!”

“Draco is a virgin, Harry. Three different doctors testified with signatures. I have them right here.”

“Mr. Malfoy is asking me to use his doctor. I think it only fair that Draco is requalified under the examination of a doctor of our choosing.”

Lucius stood abruptly, knocking back his chair. “That is an insult that this meeting cannot recover from.”

Narcissa grabbed his sleeve. “Now, Lucius, it’s not entirely as unreasonable as it sounds. We know our son. He doesn’t.”

His eyes never left Harry. “He is basically calling us liars. What more do we need to know?”

Lily couldn’t bite her lip any longer. She clutched the edges of the table as she thrust her opinion at Lucius. “This is about trust. You’d ask him to take your word that your son hasn’t allowed anyone else to plant seeds, yet you won’t take his that he’s perfectly capable of producing a child? If these are formalities, why aren’t you as willing to put your son through them as we are ours? We have a right to insist on our doctors. That’s not accusatory, that’s practical. You certainly did.”

James placed a hand on her arm to calm her.

Narcissa folded her hands. “Let’s all calm down. It would be a shame to mar this day with insecurities. You must forgive my husband. Letting go, is not something he’s very good at. And Draco is our only proof that we did something truly wonderful together in this life.”

She turned to Harry as Lucius smoldered beside her. “If the roles were reversed, of course we would want testing by our own doctors. Prior to this marriage, we must do everything in our power to say that we’ve done right by our heirs. Before we release them to their own decisions, we must be able to say that we’ve left no stone unturned, so to speak. Forgive us. Draco will undergo examination from any doctor you provide.”

No one missed how her hand wrapped itself around her husband’s as she looked Harry’s family in their eyes. “Those of us who are older and wiser, know what a trifle thing virginity is. Let’s not make it the bane of this courtship. Not when these two are so well matched on paper.”

“It’s not a deal-breaker,” Harry said. “Since we’ve only had twenty minutes to get to know each other, that information is more significant than it should be. If I had a summer to date Draco, I wouldn’t be concerned. But this is my one chance to seal a marriage deal with him.”

He looked from Narcissa to Draco. “Whether or not I’ve been told the truth, is now more relevant than ever. If we trusted each other, we’d just get hitched right now. But nobody trusts anyone and that’s what these meetings are for, to get past all that. You’re asking this of me, to deem me worthy of courtship. I want to offer an alternative course in the structure. Either Draco agrees to let me court him without my tests, right now, and I’ll let his medical confirmation stand as legal truth. That way, we can skip this part and go straight to the courtship. Or, he submits to physical examination under the doctor of my choosing and I’ll do the same for him.”

Like following a tennis ball, all heads turned to Draco.

Devastation took the light out of Draco’s eyes, casting them in darkness. They were suddenly filled with the shadows of a man who could not speak his discomfort. Poised, pale, and perfect, Draco couldn’t seem to hide the blood rushing away from the surface of his skin, pooling somewhere in his core. His lips summoned words, but nothing left them. It was the look of horror, as if he’d never guessed that Harry would do such a thing, since no one ever had. People who were rushed to evacuation, held that look of utter unpreparedness. Of fear.

“It’s just an offer. If you want to go ahead with your father’s way of doing things, I’ll submit to testing right now, but you have to as well. We can skip all of that, if you agree to let me court you now. It’s not agreement to marriage. It just gets us past all of this.”

By now, everyone could tell that Draco was stuck. Evidently, the choices imprisoned him in a place he had not shared with his parents. Some worry, some hesitation, caused him to draw inward. His torment was palpable. Lily felt compelled to offer comfort, but as soon as she leaned forward, Lucius asked his son, “Is there something you wish to tell your parents, Draco?”

The question wasn’t soft or reassuring. It was simply presented.

Draco looked ill. He shook his head. “Those are horrible tests. It’s different for people who can bear children, than it is for you.” He looked at Harry, then to his father. “You said I’d never have to endure that violation ever again. You promised.”

“I’m trying to keep that promise. It is Mr. Potter who mistakes his grasp upon the situation.”

Harry ignored everyone, leaning over the table. “Now that we can speak along with the elders, we can have our say. Throw tradition out the window on this. It’s a sore spot for both of us. I accept you just as you are. Let me court you, and get us the hell out of here.”

“Draco, there’s no point in courting a man who can’t give you a child and who has in no other way proven his magic.”

Harry was afraid that if he uttered one more word of encouragement, Mr. Malfoy could deny his application for courtship due to coercion. But he was confident that he had Draco by the balls, he just wasn’t sure if Draco knew that as well. What was all that hokum about being violated? Whatever child bearers went through, it couldn’t be any worse than having a captive audience wait on you to fill a cup with the most embarrassing fluids known to man. Harry had never experienced that, but something assured him he didn’t want to.

Short of raking his hands down his face, Draco took a deep breath and steadied himself. His hand shook when he lifted his tea. “Yes,” he spoke to Harry. So low, the others had to lean in to be sure of what they were hearing. So that there was no misunderstanding, he took a sip from his cup and sat it back down, hiding his unsteady hands under the table. “Yes, I agree to accept your suit. We’ll court for now. We’ll see how it goes.”

It was the furthest he had ever gotten in negotiations for a suitor. It wasn’t supposed to go this far. Harry was supposed to be disgusted by a husband who didn’t want him. A husband loyal to someone else, whose body might already be compromised. Then there were other secrets Draco wasn’t keen on his tests revealing. It would be easier to let Harry date him for eight weeks, than to tell his father that he wasn’t a virgin. He had already compromised the Malfoy name. No off spring had come of it, but that was by effort, not by chance. Now here this idiot was, practically blackmailing him to gain the right to court him. Harry was definitely smarter than Draco had given him credit for. He wanted to play hardball? That’s fine. Draco had eight weeks to figure out how to get rid of him. In the meantime, he’d try to behave himself and let Harry think he was running things.

So what if Harry had said some clever things when they were alone. Things Draco wished he’d heard from someone else. Words like, ‘I plan on being faithful to you’, and ‘I’m not willing to share you,’ were long overdue, well past the expiration date of their need to be heard. But when Harry had spoken them, they still made a fresh impact that had Draco stumbling over what he wanted to say, versus what he’d actually said.

If he could’ve trusted Harry, things would’ve been different.

The truth was, no one had ever listened to his committed-to-another-person story, while he watched as his value grew deeper in their eyes. Usually guys had their pride crushed the minute Draco assured them he would never love them. And he shook off most hanger-ons by expressing persistent disinterest until his father packed up their meeting and let him go.

But not Harry. This guy was clingy as fuck, and the way he’d drawn close enough to sniff Draco, left the other wondering how bad the repercussion would be to cross him. Just because Harry had forced him into a courtship, didn’t mean there was going to be any wedding. He had some balls. Draco would just have to be extra vigilant that this guy with the weird birthmark, didn’t back him into that particular corner. Harry was good looking. Even kind, until he started with that possessive shit. But it didn’t matter. Draco couldn’t marry him. He couldn’t risk putting his body through that all over again. Not for anyone. The boyfriend story came in handy. It was so much kinder than the real reason he couldn’t marry Harry.

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[Top stories by this writer](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)


	3. Old Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoys demand to see what they’re getting. Harry makes them wish they’d never asked.

WARNING:

I felt the need to give Harry a substantial family, after all the universes where he’s always the pitiful orphan. This is not meant to resemble canon even a little bit.

And if you started reading this story based on the cute pic-fics, the following chapters are going to change in tone to something more “serious”. (The second chapter already has.) As this story continues, it will become increasingly more dramatic. That doesn’t mean it won’t be fun. This will be the case with all of my pic-fics that grow into real stories. Sorry if anyone feels misled, I write the pic-fics to be playful. If more is created, the shit is going to get serious. And that’s what I’ve learned about myself. :-)

Since learning that even my most harmless choices are a source of offense to some readers, I’ve gone a bit tense with presenting my updates. I want to be fair and to discourage anyone who is expecting more of the lightweight fluff that may have lured them to this story, from reading. The only thing I can promise is that there will be no important character deaths in this fic, if any, and that Harry and Draco are the one and only main pairing, and that love will prevail.

I hope I see you at the end of this story, if I don’t, no hard feelings. :-)

* * *

 

It was settled then. The courtship was now active and valid. Normally the meeting would’ve dispersed, and the Malfoys would’ve been treated to a dinner celebration. Letters detailing the first outing between the couple would follow. But Lucius Malfoy did not seem satisfied with Harry’s renegade checkmate. He withheld his signature as everyone waited on him.

James Potter retained his smile and clasped his hands together, making a game of his long-suffering patience. “Is something wrong?”

“Haste is never wise. My son might be too exhausted to scrutinize the fine print, but I am not.” His glance at Draco was reprimanding as he spoke to James. “If these two are going to leap into courtship without ceremony, I want insurance that the relationship will yield a return. I want a Certainty of Consummation. I will not sign those documents without it. Let the underwriters note my request.”

James’s eyes met Harry’s questioning squint. He trivialized the request with half-interested laughter. While Narcissa and Lily concealed their reactions to Lucius’s audacity, no one except Harry saw Draco freeze over into utter stillness.

“Mr. Malfoy,” James began, “that is a level of privacy that my wife and I feel is best left up to the boys. While we all want to make sure everything go as planned, we can’t control everything. Let it be noted that I deny the clause. Harry and Draco will be the only ones who decide what happens on their wedding night, should they get to that point.”

“Sir, you are asking me to relinquish my firstborn to a wizard who would spoil him for any other, and not ask for recompense against such irreversible damage. All I’m asking for is a grandchild. If one is not presented in a year’s time, we will be equipped with enough information to ask for a Write of Annulment, or proceed to more drastic arrangements. If not, the uncertainty could drag out indefinitely. Do not waste my time with ideologies of privacy. Once business is taken care of, the two shall have all the privacy they require. I’m not signing him over, otherwise.”

Now James wasn’t smiling. He let some of the annoyance he felt into his voice. “Like it or not, Draco is not a piece of land, to be signed over like a deed. My son can’t spoil him, nor can he be polluted and ruined for anyone else. Those are outdated views. Any experience the boys share with one another, can only cause them both to grow. If the marriage is nullified for any reason, anyone Draco gives himself to after that, can only benefit from what he’s learned. That’s how relationships work.”

Before Lucius could reply, James added, sparing another glance at Harry. “I realize your son is precious to you, and you’re having to let him go. Mine is precious to me, and it isn’t easy to sit here and listen to you express doubt after doubt that he can measure up to your expectations. No one, not even your son’s excellence, measures up to your expectations. Just give these two a break.”

Tension strained around the table. Lily looked down, the only indication that she was struggling to hold her tongue. As long as her husband kept up the fight, she wouldn’t have to jump in unless he was in trouble. So far, she thought he was handling Lucius very well.

Equally, tendons stood on Narcissa’s neck as her elegance held its grip in the face of opposition. Whether she agreed with her husband or not, she wasn’t going to see him defeated. Dignity was everything. Surely they could all come to a dignified agreement.

Lucius didn’t feel that he was being understood. He leaned forward.

“Let me say it a different way. If I sign, my son’s virtue will be lost. It’s not about some superstitious Victorian etiquette. It’s about magical property. His body, his latent womb, has the ability to produce magic of the highest order, and none of us are getting any younger. He doesn’t have all the time in the world. The females of his mother’s line burn their magic hottest and brightest during their most fertile years. I would not have him dallying through the next five years, filled with romance, and not one child. He doesn’t have a lifetime to take chances. Biologically, the next ten years are not guaranteed to him. This is the reason why we only have one child, and have had to invest our every hope in him. And judging by your household, you’re no great producer of heirs, which causes me to think we should err on the side of caution where mating is concerned. Hence, Certainty of Consummation.”

James crinkled his nose, a handless way of pushing his glasses up on his face. “Are you saying that Draco could be barren at some point?”

“I’m saying, the time for optimum conception is now, at the apex of his prime.”

James could’ve argued that a person’s twenties was no where near their prime, but his plummeting respect conveyed that he didn’t want to get into it. This wizard was all business and wasn’t going to understand the subtleties and compassion of philosophy. Besides, Draco had gone white as a sheet, and looked like their negotiations were torturing him. He wondered if the boy was going to make it through the meeting.

“Let the underwriters note a new concern,” he stated to the Gringott’s transcription documentary their ceremony. “Hereditary, limited fertility. You should’ve mentioned that.”

He was immediately sorry when he saw Draco look stricken. The boy’s sockets took on collapsed shadows as he looked inward on some wrong he must’ve done. Before James could speak, they all saw the tears Draco quickly wiped away.

Harry’s head snapped to his father. “Dad!”

“No, Draco, that’s nothing against you. It just makes your father’s statements more understandable.”

Now Draco’s eyes closed, suppressing any more emotion, as well as appearing to shut out the sound of James’s voice.

“Dad.” Harry’s plea needed for his father to fix it.

“What I mean is, given what we know now, a Certainty of Consummation isn’t entirely unreasonable.”

Draco’s fingers lifted to weave a barrier between himself and those staring at him. Tips pressed into his forehead as he lowered it and Harry’s stare slipped through the openings to make sure he was only calming himself behind them. He knew it. He knew Draco’s false front was just a protective barrier. A part of him wanted to thank his father for revealing it, but he knew this had to be incredibly hard on Draco.

He turned to his father and said in his lowest, most respectful tone, “Dad, you’re making my husband cry.”

Taken back, James stammered an apology just as Draco shouted, “I’m not crying!”

Draco’s assertion was loud and filled with heated offense. Even with a breaking voice, he was still full of strength. His outlandish denial only made his pride more obvious. James waited, to see if he could defend his outburst. He tried to tell Draco that he wanted him to. He needed him to. _Come on, son. You’ve got to stand up to your father some time._

“I mean, not for the reasons that you think,” Draco managed. He regained his composure. “You’re all talking about me as if I’m not here, and I’m just supposed to let you? I’m more concerned with getting this day over with than I am with any clause. I’ll do my best to honor my family. After that, I’m done. I’m living on my terms and no one elses.”

“But Draco,” James appealed. “Are you okay with being held to a contract that demands intercourse with your husband on your wedding night?”

To soften this blunt blow, he added, “I can tell you, as a married man, nerves and the anxiety to perform can be tremendous, what with your whole extended family waiting right outside the door.”

Harry smiled at the joke, wishing Draco could too.

“Seriously, there’s so much pressure to perform, the last thing you want to do on your wedding night is force the issue just to say that you did.”

“That’s right,” Lily added. “I won’t say which one of us was more nervous, but we played chess and made obscene noises till our families went away happy. Then our honeymoon really got underway.”

She deliberately avoided looking at her husband, not keen on retribution. The only one unable to perform that night, for just a few short hours, was implicit in her comment. She neglected to add the wonders that wine and soft, coaxing kisses had done.

Lucius looked confused. These were negotiations, not some kind of therapy intervention. The Potter’s dip into kindness, at precisely the moment when they should’ve been tightening restraints on the whole affair, did not make sense to him. While Draco’s outburst was unappealing, he could be forgiven, being the subject upon which so much rode. The Potter’s displayed no discipline at all. He could see that he was going to have to stay very close to this marriage if he wanted that grandchild.

The warmth in Lily’s admission only appeared to wound Draco further. He looked angry that she’d even presented him with a peace offering of a story.

To Harry it was clear. Draco wasn’t used to love. Not the kind that let him cry, anyway. His regained composure threatened to break again. But he answered, “If that’s what will shut my father up, let him have it.”

His tone took the wind out of everyone. It was a win for Mr. Malfoy, but a hard one. As if his son’s words were a betrayal, he stared at him, faltering at such vehemence. Draco’s resentment met him. In that moment, an idol fell. An obelisk, a monument of utter supplication and worship, was seen for the mask of fear that it really was, and abandoned. In the meeting of their stare, Draco walked away. Harry saw it happen, though Draco remained seated across from him.

The clause was written in.

“Is that everything?” James directed his question at Lucius.

“No. Your genealogy places your son’s magic in the same stock with pagan wizards of old. We require a demonstration of this grade of magic.”

Glances shifted around the table. The last battle of wills seemed to have taken something out of all of them.

Lucius rolled his eyes upon realizing they didn’t get it. He looked directly at Harry.

“Prove your magic.”

Harry shuddered, pinned to his chair by the dagger-like focus of this wizard. “How?”

“Do something no one else can do.” This should’ve been obvious, Lucius’ tone suggested.

James laughed. “Miracles are not necessarily magic. There’s a difference.”

Narcissa spoke up. “What my husband means is, we require an external representation of your magic. Ideally, your patronis.”

Harry went confused. There was nothing spectacular about his patronis. It was the same as his father’s. While he was proud of it, he was pretty sure no one in the room was going to be impressed by it.

He asked Draco, “My patronis? Is that a sufficient demonstration for you? You can set a task for me, you know? Hide something in a remote part of the world, and let me bring it back to you. Ask me to solve a problem you’ve been working on your whole life. What would you ask me to do, to prove my magic?”

Draco looked at him, ready to throw out a convenient answer that would get everyone’s eyes off of him. But something warred behind his expression, as if he considered asking for something impossible, something he really wanted. Harry felt his troubled desire, and tuned into it. He sensed Draco’s thoughts. If this was the strongest magic available to him, then why waste it on something silly? Why not ask for the thing that would fix everything. Harry didn’t know what that was, but he saw it in Draco’s desperate grasp on his composure.

He leaned forward. “Ask me anything. You’re my motivation.”

Draco looked at his father, then back to Harry. Guarded anxiety dulled the brightness in his eyes. “I’ll be able to tell your magic by your patronis.”

Harry turned to Lucius. “And then you’ll sign?”

Chin high, lips smug. “If your patronis proves compatible, I’ll sign.”

Without further ado, Harry took out his wand and steadied his concentration. He could produce his magic in animal-spirit form without thinking about it, but something told him the Malfoys were testing him in a different way and he’d need all the form and energy he could pull from himself. A patronis was born of one’s essence and took symbolic, animal form of one’s intuitive nature. Personality resonated with the animal kingdom, and pulled attributes that best represented not only a wizard’s magic, but what was in his heart. It was an honesty that could not be manipulated to deceive. Since it could not lie, it was a fair request to allow it to be seen by all.

He chose not to verbalize the charm and simply let his intention pour through him into his wand. Immediately, silvery cobalt blue exploded from the tip and swelled into the form of a four-legged beast. A stag, just like his fathers. Usually, it remained an outline, but he put so much into it, the animal took on mass and sinew. Its shape filled out with rough antlers, a stout trunk, a rib cage that showed expansion as it simulated breath and fur-lined muscles contracted beneath their woolly coat. Its nostrils bellowed blue mist. The animal was quite large, the realistic size of an adult buck, and was so convincing that it inspired those witnessing it, to an irrational concern for wildness running a muck in a civilized setting.

Harry had cast the creature behind Draco. It leapt over the table and bounded in a circular spiral that carried it upward, over everyone’s head. At first, soundless hooves beat a path as it raced along each wall, putting on a show of form and magic as everyone in the room had to admit the creature was more robust and vivid than most projected spirit animals. Then sound came with vibrations that shook the walls as hooves thundered across them, hard as any physical stampede. Harry watched to see if it was enough to appease the Malfoys.

While Lucius did not admit to being impressed, his face tightened on something he wasn’t expecting, something that left his mouth slightly open and his gaze momentarily free of criticism. Unspoken communication flickered between him and his wife. As for Draco, he looked at Harry’s patronis as if it were a personal treaty against him. Jaw clenched, eyes following erratically, his chest heaved to contain his reaction, which, if Harry didn’t know better, was one of alarm.

The magical creature pranced around the room several more times before streaking back to its progenitor. Harry’s wand tip still glowed, even though the link between it and the animal was no longer visible. He would’ve allowed the stag to dissipate, but the creature seemed too strong, as if it existed with more than the intention to merely be seen. When it walked up behind his chair, he waited to see what would happen. This demonstration was for Draco, so the animal’s behavior might’ve been drawn to Draco. It simply stopped behind Harry’s chair, facing Draco, and steamed the air with illusory breaths. Its antlers wreathed the space above Harry’s head with bark-like points of growths that continued to extend until the antlers curved forward, like jagged, cupped hands around Harry’s chair, particularly his shoulders and head.

To everyone’s astonishment, the antlers crowned Harry’s head and shoulders four feet above him and four feet around him, while pointing to Draco. Harry’s magic appeared to glisten with star-like quality, as it dripped off the tips of the antlers. Without opening his mouth, Harry’s patronis openly chose Draco and asked him to join that sphere of power. _Forget these rules and join me._ Harry could not have hidden his contempt for the rules of this ceremony if he’d wanted to. The animal was an expression of his most centered, unshakable certainty of his right to be supremely happy. It spoke his truth, and asked for Draco’s hand.

Draco somehow felt retaliation was in order. This was too honest, too personal, to be suffered in front of his family. He wasn’t a fucking damsel who needed rescuing. How dare this guy think that he’d just melt and join him. He ruled his world just as much as Harry did his, and he pulled his wand out, ready to match Harry’s masculine overture with one of his own.

No one heard Narcissa’s throat clearing disapproval, or the look her husband gave her to silence her. The language taking place between Harry and his chosen, seemed to be a private conversation and no one at the table had ever seen patroni do this before. They let Draco have his say.

Draco aimed behind the stag. A typical silvery sheen of advanced magic, issued forth, shooting straight through the animal. But it rebounded, coming back into the room as deep green light. Harry saw it reflected in his father’s glasses and had to turn in his seat to see what everyone else was staring at. For a second, he wondered if Draco was attempting to use the infamous killing curse to obliterate his patronus, but no, something else was happening.

The den had long served as a formal meeting room. It held a balance of antique tables and conference furniture, thanks to Lily’s preference for the practical. Bookshelves ran adjacent to rising windows that overlooked the garden. All of it, washed in a watery spectrum, that made Harry feel like he was looking through wavy green glass. Not bright and pastel, but deep and emerging, like some underwater quality coming out of the dark. It was a velvet, jewel-toned algae, like something that could only grow hidden from the sight of mankind, in a lost forest, or a prehistoric ocean. Harry got the impression of chlorophyll burgeoning with enzymes to the point of bursting effervescence. That was the magic happening at a microscopic level.

Vaporous depths of that color, that old magic, filled the air. It had a smell, like metal heating up. Harry had never made the connection between smells and magic before, but his senses told him that Draco was pulling magic into the room that was literally too big for the space. The burning smell was a sign of expansion, the way heating ducts warmed after a season of disuse, throwing the first currents of rising heat out into the air. For someone who put off a vibe of being cold and unapproachable, his magic raised the temperature.

Just as that was a welcomed sensation on the first chilly day of autumn, it inspired pleasant anticipation in Harry’s stomach. This hinted of hidden sexuality.

Even though they were magic, the Potter’s home was equipped with all the conveniences that nonmagical people enjoyed. They embraced muggle culture as well as their own. As Draco’s magic filled the room, Harry could almost taste its dense quality. Taste and smell filled him with phantom images of sunlight wafting into a hot old attic, falling across stacks of forgotten tomes, dried out cracked and yellowed pages. The burn of dust and heat stung his nostrils.

They all heard the creature before they saw it. Its sound thundered in their chests, not their ears. That low vibration gave the impression of something that stayed close to the ground and invisible along jagged rock walls. They looked at one another when they weren’t searching the ceiling for the apparition to take shape. The low rumble drew their eyes upwards, where light and shadows took on the ambiance of an otherworldly sky. Not evening blue, but ocean green. They looked up into depths as distant as black space and watched the thing soar down to them from a great height of nebulous gasses and moonlit illumination.

When it flapped its wings, clouds stirred away. Like all patroni, it traveled on a spiral of cast energy. The fact that it started so high in the sky, spoke of the layers Draco was using to reach as far beyond himself as he could, and to harness as much of the raw materials the elements made available to him. He wasn’t just casting a patronis, he was opening a portal. And the fact that he was doing it alone, without the typical help of a coven, or at least a partner, made it all the more aggressive and shocking.

The beast came down. Its shadow took more form than it did, warning them that it was a thing of substance, and physically valid in its own world. They felt it gain momentum and velocity. Every person looking up, were suddenly privileged to view what they must’ve looked like through its eyes. In a mixture of magic, the strongest form of communication became emotional telepathy. They saw down into the house, into the room, into the universe of mortals looking up at a creature that had abandoned the world of humans long ago.

The fact that Draco’s patronis was a dragon, did not surprise them. The fact that it was so immense, and beautiful, did. Only so much of it could manifest into the visible spectrum at a time. Its armor could’ve been crafted from labradorite. Smooth plates reflected silvery light and transferred it into shifting blues until the coolest places on its body appeared as the darkest and greenest. When one’s eyes weren’t being deceived, it was the color of moldavite. It traveled in a trail of its own dark vapor and blotted out the sky as it grew closer. The walls shook at its approach. Plaster trickled onto the table. Everyone braced themselves. This wasn’t real, they reminded themselves. Draco was showing off, and as impressive as it was, it only hinted at a deeper issue.

The thing opened its wings. It revealed a span too great to fit into the room. Skeletal extensions unfurled thick, opaque wings that held an opalescent sheen to them. Harry saw muscle definition pulling tendons to create a powerful airflow as it flapped its wings. Resulting wind blew everyone’s hair back as the creature convinced them of its reality. It thrashed in the sky, roaring on an auditory level that no ear heard, but which caused every heart to stumble off rhythm. It was an intimidating creature, as exciting to see as it was terrifying.

Just as everyone reassured themselves that there was no danger in the creature attempting to land in the room, talons, the size of a car, ripped through the fabric of the moment, and emerged right through the walls. They were dark, glistening, and ridged like wooden totem carvings. Something burned red-black deep inside them, and before Harry could suspect that it was the dragon’s blood, the thing lifted its head and expanded its chest.

He heard Narcissa say, “That’s enough, Draco.”

He wanted to look at her, to see what she knew, but the dragon held him captivated. He was tempted to forget about his own patronus, but the stag glowed fiercely beside his chair, as if serving as a reminder that he must keep it active. He must keep it bright and focused in the moment.

Something stirred inside the dragon. It’s head was so far above the room, Harry could hardly make out the details of it’s snout. There were no obvious horns, but the way it brought its own atmosphere with it, one could not be sure. He did see the silver eyes. They were the last thing he saw before something gurgled in the underbelly of the beast and lit it from the inside. It started like a warm glow, an ember coming into view. Then it elongated and grew up the core of the beast and Harry knew what was coming. In fact, the time it took, was the warning. He had plenty of warning, and still he stayed. When the others at the table stood and abandoned their positions, he stayed. When his mother came back to grab him, he gently shook her off. He had only a vague notion that his father removed her.

This moment needed his full attention. No one else seemed to trust Draco’s control over his magic, not even his parents. It was okay if they needed to run, but he couldn’t afford to. Now was the time to prove to Draco that he wasn’t going anywhere, and he wasn’t afraid of the worst Draco could dish out.  
Whatever flame came out of those magical lungs, they would be made of Draco’s molten core and Harry steadied himself to face them.

He locked onto the creature’s deadly aim. When it opened its mouth, he saw flames, red-orange as an iron worker’s oven in the back of its throat. But in the journey down to him, those flames gusted into air that turned them green. They rushed at him, blinding him to all else but their blistering light, which colored every surface in the room. In those flames, he opened himself up and let them engulf him. It was like stepping into a tunnel of flaming blades. His line of sight had no choice but to peer into the nucleus of the fire, back to its source. This is how he latched on to Draco’s magic.

Behind him, in safety, the others watched. Only Draco remained seated, admiring his creation. Harry’s stag leapt in front of him the moment the dragon breathed its wrath. Instead of shielding Harry, it let the flames in, but appeared to grow in size, in an effort to process them. The whole of the fire engulfed the stag, but Harry’s patronus remained stable as Draco’s excess magic poured out around it. Only a thin stream of flame made it through the stag and into Harry’s focus. That stream proved critical, burning with laser intensity into Harry’s eyes, but concentrating more at the spot between his eyebrows.

In that space, he locked on to Draco’s magic. He felt it, and pulled. With his stag in front of him to bear all the energy, Harry pulled and put all that he could of Draco’s fire, into his stag. At first the flames were forthcoming and gushed out more than he could use. But Draco’s intelligence snagged on the discovery of what he was doing, and pulled his fire back. He must’ve felt Harry’s touch, as invasive and real, as any physical touch would’ve been. At first the dragon recoiled, its talons detaching from the room for a moment, only to add extra heat and vehemence to the spray it sent down on Harry. It meant to burn his intentions and to lay his plans to the ground until his hopes turned to ashes. It vented rage and power that everyone watching, knew Draco had hidden all his life. If Harry was foolish enough to stand in that path, then he would get the full brunt of it.

For all of Draco’s heat, the flames were not hot. At least, insulated by his patronus, Harry experienced the fire as windswept momentum. Instead of burns, his skin felt like he was facing a wind tunnel. Through the green lens that filtered his vision, he stopped seeing the dragon and saw Draco on the other side.

It could’ve been a steep hillside on one of Ireland’s most remote landscapes. There, the sky framed Draco and his dragon, who perched on a distant ledge some feet behind him. The dragon wasn’t nearly as big in this dreamscape, but it was still impressive, and Harry saw that the color shifting in its plated armor, gave it the ability to conceal itself, blend with the background, or become invisible altogether. The dragon was regal and sat surveying the hills below, its silver eyes as sharp as an eagle’s. It watched with mild interest as Harry moved closer the Draco, who smiled.

Harry was sure this was a dream, but it was a window into Draco’s head and no less important for being so. They were so high up, so far above the cares of the world, that Draco regained his happiness in this place. The landscape around them was so steep, Harry felt ready to fall off the earth. They could’ve launched themselves into flight, without the dragon, just by leaping downhill. There was lots of symbolic communication here, and he realized that in this moment, Draco was telling him everything he could. His smile said the most.

_You broke through. You made it. You found me._

It was a smile that muggle toothpaste commercials would’ve paid millions for. It was filled with light, rivaled only by his hair. He was dressed in heavy khakis, riding boots, and a formal shirt so white that it glowed in the sun. Thin, brown leather straps braced over his shirt and trousers, and Harry guessed that they connected to a riding harness fit for a pet dragon. Draco’s sleeves were rolled up and Harry thought he saw the hair on his arms reflect sunlight back at him. He looked for the same reserved qualities that he’d left at the meeting table, and found none as Draco stepped toward him.

This is a fantasy, he told himself. He tried to kill you with that thing. Now you’re in the hospital, probably on some morphine drip to control the pain, and you’re still dreaming of him. That didn’t stop him going giddy with anticipation as Draco’s body blocked the sun and bent close. In the cool of that shadow, Harry kept his eyes open as long as he could, to make sure he was really seeing Draco lean in to kiss him. Draco was taller, and that only made his smooth lips more exciting as they descended on him. Harry tried to memorize every pink crease, the fine down of surface hairs, and even pores when he couldn’t find a blemish to hang his memory onto. He knew the kiss would destroy him, and he had to let it.

Draco’s arms enveloped him as if he’d spent an eternity waiting to see Harry again. His kiss was timeless, and in that exchange, they remembered who they were and why they were there. It was a reunion, and Harry knew that if it ended, so would the knowledge of who they were. They continued to kiss, demanding to stay in this space for as long as they could. Both knew it wouldn’t last. The window was already closing, and both tried to give and take what they could.

Here, Draco’s body wasn’t limited to flesh and blood. Harry felt each thrill of his emotions as well as the exquisite desire they both shared. His skin felt warm with the day’s sun infusing it, but cool with the immaterial of magic. It was tactile enough, and they used their bodies to slide along each other, receiving the kind of sensation they could only have between lifetimes. Somewhere, long ago, Draco had gone by another name, and had asked Harry to join him. Uncertain of his path, Harry had been sure he didn’t want anymore adventures. “How will I know you?”

Earth lives look so tempting when you’re above them. Cake looks amazing when you have no body to taste it with, but can feel the joy that went into making it. Your longing to join a race that makes such beautiful, delicious things, is overwhelming.

But once you merge with life, it could make you feel anything, from exhilaration to loss. Draco kept going back there. He kept getting them both into all kinds of trouble. Draco did it for the fun. Harry did it to follow Draco’s smile. To be caught in its illumination, was everything.

“How will you know me? I’ll be the keeper of everything you love. I’ll encode it into my DNA. You do the same for me.”

That was their eternal hide and seek. It was a great game, but they had to make it believable in order to stay committed to those lives. In some, they forgot who they were and really suffered. In some, they’d made mistakes and cried so hard that they trapped themselves in sorrow, and spent an eternity finding their way back out again. In some realities, they were still searching for one another. And in this one, Draco had disassociated so much from a happiness that he felt to be unrealistic, that he’d left his most valuable self behind.

“What did you do? Why are you so afraid to be with me?” Harry asked, knowing that now was his only chance to unlock the truths to Draco’s real heart.

Light Draco, the one who knew that he was made of happiness and nothing else, whispered. “I made a mistake. I set it up really nice for you, because I know how you hate for things to come too easily.” The friendliness with which he revealed all of his teeth, did not disappoint Harry, who swooned.

Harry felt his withdrawal even as he held him. Their time was up.

“No!” Harry held tightly, as if his desire could stop eternal forces. “Please, no. It took me forever to find you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the feel of the other in his arms. He heard laughter and felt Draco’s embrace tighten.

“I made a mistake.” Even Draco’s tone, as sad as it seemed now, was filled with smiling acceptance. When Harry could no longer feel his body against him, he heard one last time, “I made a mistake.”

That was Harry’s experience inside the flame of Draco’s patronis. What he didn’t see, was how everyone in the room kept their eyes on his stag. As Draco’s dragon shrank, Harry’s stag grew. It didn’t reach mythical proportions like the dragon, but took on solidity. Its antlers branched out into symmetrical spikes that appeared to spray a silvery resin of magic from their tips as they grew. That’s where the dragon’s energy went. The antlers took on unnatural shapes, spiraling like fanciful mandalas as they increased in length to accommodate the magic. This is where Harry stored Draco’s excessive rage and neutralized it into something less volatile.

The backlit sky behind the dragon, was the first thing to fade. And through what was left, a much smaller version of the creature, translucent against the ceiling and walls, could now be seen.  
The more Draco tried to hold his patronis together, the more he felt drained. His rage was gone, and the assertion he used to maintain it, exhausted him. He let go, as if having the last of it wrested from his grip. His body actually jerked forward in his chair, as Harry pulled on the link to his patronus until nothing more came from it. Draco leaned forward, clearly nauseated by the effort. They all thought he was going to be sick, and Narcicssa was the first to rush to his side.

“Darling, it’s all right.” She pressed her hands to his back. As if competing for graciousness, Lily moved to Draco’s side with a glass of water. Both women looked at each other with steel in their eyes. Lily did not back down.

For a moment, they seemed to forget the way Harry’s trance state continued to hold him and the fact that his stag towered over the table, aiming a veritable tree of magic over his and Draco’s heads. The creature was still robust and lit, dripping pearls and sprouts of energy over their tea cups, still very much activated. Draco ignored his mother’s touch, saw Harry’s magic reflected in his tea, and lifted his eyes to the threads of silvery power weaving through those monstrous set of antlers. If Harry couldn’t describe what he’d seen in the vision, then neither could Draco. They weren’t exactly the same visions but Draco had no more of an explanation for what happened to him, than Harry did.

All he saw, was his beautiful, extraordinary green fire, consumed by an average, four-legged beast. The best magic available to him, better even than his music, had been extinguished like an offensive household fire, and not the work of art that it was. And now the thing was looking down at him as if it expected him to kneel to it. And the absolute worst thing was, Draco couldn’t even feel his anger anymore. That had been his fuel. He needed that. All that was left now, was humiliation and a ton of confusion. How could this happen? All his life, his patronus was the one place he could pour his magic without restraining himself, and this fucker eats it in one gulp? Fucking vampire! That’s what he was, and Draco was damned if he was going to marry a goddamn vampire.

He wanted to say it, to yell it, to all of them. But the more he stared up into the eyes of Harry’s monstrous patronis, the more frustration welled inside of him. Before he could vent his nastiest thoughts, frustration spilled over the brims of his eyes. Unable to stop himself, his perfect face crumbled into something he could no longer hide. Valuable seconds were lost before his body cooperated to get him to his feet and out of his mother’s reach. The women were babying him and that just made it all worse. He knew his behavior was unacceptable and his father had to be let down and furious, which was why he didn’t bother looking Lucius’s way when he ran from the room.

His vision swam through wet heat and mucus. He had no idea where he was going, just out and away, whichever came first. But they were following him and he heard a jumble of voices calling his name. The Potter’s home wasn’t that fancy, he told himself, why the hell couldn’t he find his way out? He ignored the concern in the voices calling him, and threw himself into the nearest enclosure when he knew they weren’t going to leave him alone.

It turned out to be a bathroom. It had a stained glass window that didn’t open, or he would’ve crawled out of it. Otherwise, it was small, bright with plenty of lighting, dark cabinets and breezy white curtains. It smelled seldom used, like a guest bathroom, with unburned candles and the scent of hard water and rose soaps. It reminded him of an old woman, but he sat on the closed lid of the toilet and let out the worst of his sobs as muffled as he could. He knew any one of the adults outside could break the charm he’d placed on the door, if they wanted to. But he was hoping they’d at least give him a few moments to himself and not do that.

Who was this guy, Harry Potter? And why was this happening? He couldn’t marry this guy. He couldn’t. And yet something wasn’t giving him a choice.

On the other side of the door, Harry was the last to find where the party had ended up. Ahead of him, in the narrow hall, he saw Lucius and his father talking competitively, heads bent, in front of the door. Lily, arms folded, waited as her husband tried to talk sense into Lucius.

“Let’s just all come away from the door and give him time. I’m sure Draco will come out when he’s ready.”

“The least he can do is say something. Draco, come out at once.”

“Take all the time you need, Draco, mummy’s right here.”

“Can we get you anything, Draco?” Lily sounded overwrought, as if she had a responsibility to fix Draco’s breakdown because it was happening in her home.

Exasperated, Lucius hammered his demand into James’s face. “Will you please give me a few minutes alone with my son? This is rather personal.”

“Oh, now you respect his privacy.”

Harry was going to try to wedge in and pull his father away, but Lily beat him to it. “Let them try.” She was about to say more, when Harry saw his Godfather Sirius, followed by his grandmother and his Uncle Remus, headed down the hall to see what all the commotion was. A few steps behind them, trailed his father’s mother, her two sisters, and his mother’s uncle. Most of his relatives lived further away, and he wasn’t as close to them as he was his mother’s mother. ‘Gamy’ had quaffed her brilliant, burgundy finger waves for the occasion and her eyes assured Harry that whatever was happening, it couldn’t be that bad, as she used Remus’s gentle arm to lean on and kept her cane steady.

He’d known there was a room full of waiting relatives and a dinner celebration planned afterwords, if all went well, but he’d lost track of who had actually shown up. His arrangement with Draco was equivalent to a pre-wedding banquet and it wasn’t a good sign that the other had locked himself out of reach before negotiations were over.

More than a little distressed, he called for his dad’s attention, jerking his head to point out the unwanted party train closing in. James disentangled himself from his wife and tore away to hear his son out.

“Dad, now what?”

Sirius strode into the corridor, a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. He wore a warm, rust dinner jacket that complimented his gloriously thick curls and full mustache. Mirth danced around the edges of his eyes as he handed the drink to James. A slight smile belied how serious he was taking the moment. “Having a spot of trouble, are we?”

James was hellbent on staying positive. He took the drink, holding up his hands and gesturing to the rest of his approaching family that everything was fine. “Draco is a little nervous. We’ve all seen this before. Everything’s under control, it’s all fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Sirius twisted, relaying the message in an amplified voice to those bringing up the rear. “Prince Charming’s in the loo. Got cold feet, apparently. Locked himself in there.”

Gamy plugged her ears over his volume, and Harry and James frowned in the wake of it. Sirius was drunk. He turned back to them, taking in their disapproval. He knew what they were thinking. “It’s not everyday my Godson finds his soulmate. When you said we were going to celebrate, I saw no reason to wait.”

Any other time, James would’ve joined his complete disregard of the situation, but Harry looked desperate to talk to him.

Harry appealed to Sirius. “Dad made my husband cry.”

James’s mouth fell open. “Me? That boy was already in tears. What were you doing with your stag?”

“I was just trying to take his pain away. His dragon was so big because he gives it his repressed emotions. He was doing fine until you called him barren.”

James’s head fell forward. “Oh my god. Okay, I’m sorry. I feel bad about that. Honestly, I had no idea that kid even had feelings. He sat like a stone through most of the proceedings. I didn’t mean to make him cry. But part of me is relieved. I don’t want Harry marrying an iceberg.”

Sirius tsked. “Way to go, Prongs.”

James ignored him. “But Harry, these are the kinds of things that have to be discussed to avoid problems later. And slow down, you’re not married yet.”

“I might as well be. If I want him, I’ve got to make it real in my mind. I’ve made my choice, Dad. That’s my husband. I can’t acknowledge any other option or I’ll lose him. That’s how it works.”

Sirius grinned. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Remus squeezed his way up behind him. “What’s all this?”

As soon as he could, Sirius took his drink from him and gulped. “Celebrations, mate. The blueboods are talking their kid off the pot. Seems our Harry put the fear of God in ‘em. He came in haughtier than a pilgrim’s buckle, now he’s blushing and crying behind that door.” Sirius pointed. “Very high maintenance, Harry, if you ask me. But he’s prettier than the lot of birds chasing after you, I’ll give him that.”

As if reading Harry’s mind, his father and Remus did what he could not bring himself to do to his Godfather. They both looked at Sirius and said, “Shut up!”

Remus took his drink back. “No more for you.”

Just then, Gamy lifted her cane. “Something’s burning.”

Everyone began sniffing the air, their noses turning instinctively to the bathroom.

“I don’t smell anything,” James leaned toward the Malfoys. “Is he burning something? A spell?”

Judging by the outrage hardening in Lucius’s glare, the question did not compute.

Just then, one of Harry’s great aunts pointed to the way across the hall. Smoke was indeed traveling along the ceiling and starting to cause a haze around the corner. James scrambled past Sirius, followed by Harry, Remus, and Lily, who had time to shout at the Malfoys. “There’s a fire. Get him out of there.”

The smoke was coming from the meeting room and it took a heart-stopping moment for James to see the files and documents he’d left on the table, glowing orange with magical urgency. Yes, there was a fire, but not a burning one. Just a magical one. It was Gringott’s way of signaling urgent and unacknowledged changes to the documents. Down the hall, he could hear the Malfoys raising their voices to get their son to come out.

He turned to Lily. “Please tell them it’s okay. Let the lad stay in there as long as he wants. They must be just as exhausted as we are. Persuade them to come have drinks. Tell them negotiations are over for today, I don’t care what happens.”

He turned to the small crowd of family pouring through the door. Loving curiosity blinked expectantly back at him. So much for safety drills. His own aged mother looked delighted as she waited to hear news of the official engagement. He knew the reason for her smile was that she’d turned her hearing aid off and thought all the commotion was about the big announcement. She’d made up her mind that that was the only news worth listening to.

James so wanted to gladden her heart with that news, but before he braced himself to announce that he had no announcements, Gringott’s documents discharged a plume of smoke from their glowing surfaces. James spoke to the underwriters through their two-way quills.

“I know, I know, we’ve not finished our agreements. Mr. Malfoy was just about to sign. When he comes back from the bathroom, I’ll see if he’s ready.”

Thinking he was on top of it, a second plume of smoke rose up from the document, choking him as it wafted to the ceiling. The response was so immediate, he got the feeling his statement was perceived as inadequate. He opened the document. His eyes scanned the legal jargon, confirming there was nothing amiss except the new gold lettering and official stamp.

Gold lettering. Official stamp.

He tried to keep emotion from his face as Harry and the others looked at him.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

He held a finger up, asking Harry to wait while he read the newly written clauses and documentation that verified the changes. Harry tried to look at the pages but he brought them to his chest. He stared into his son’s darkening brow, and silently appealed to Harry’s patience.

“If you’ll get Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I’ll be happy to share Gringott’s findings with you. This is something we all have to take in together.”

Harry hesitated. “But what about Draco? I don’t want to force him to come out.”

“Then don’t. You don’t have to. Give Draco his space and we’ll sit down and go over this new information together.” He gave Harry his most confident smile, knowing Harry wasn’t falling for it.

It took fifteen minutes to persuade the Malfoys away from the bathroom, and everyone else back out into the hall. When someone explained to Mother Potter why Draco was locked in the bathroom, she got the idea to offer him lady fingers laced with Valium, “for his nerves,” and held a silver platter to the door while she talked him into eating one. “Just one dear. In my day, these were indispensable.”

She was so frail and certain of her helpfulness, no one had the heart to pull her away from the door. If Draco heard her, he didn’t answer.

Remus and Harry’s Gama, looked at each other knowingly. In Mother Potter’s day, women of a certain stature, sedated themselves comatose to keep from dealing with their problems. Gama Evans braced her stout back against the wall, put both hands on the handle of her cane, and made herself at home among the chaos.

Harry’s absence gave James time to show Lily the documents. As soon as she understood, her hand flew to cover her open mouth. Balled fists reached for the roots of her hair. “Nooooo!”

“Shhhh! We can’t let him think anything’s wrong.

“Nnnnooooo!”

“Hun, let’s be strong for Harry. For both of them. It’s not that bad.”

“I’m not ready!”

“I know. Nobody’s ready. Look at the bright side.”

Lucius Malfoy’s heaving annoyance beat her to the quick. “And what, pray tell, is the bright side? This is a farce. All the boy had to do was show his damn patronis, he didn’t have to attack Draco’s.”

James couldn’t believe it. Even with far more pressing matters on the table, he couldn’t let Lucius get away with that one. “Your son’s dragon attacked. Harry simply defended himself.”

“Against what? The animals are hardly real. Your son used his magic to consume Draco’s superior creation. Hardly a gesture fit for premarital courtship.”

Lily threw her body between them. She didn’t notice how the whirl of her hair slapped Lucius’s face.

“Enough! I’m sending for drinks because James has some news that’s pretty much going to render this argument obsolete.” She whirled again, passing the entry of Narcissa and Harry.

Narcissa looked shaken but coping.

Harry looked mortified. “Dad, Grandma is drugging my husband. She told him the cakes would make all of this go away, and he opened the door and took one.”

James was not a religious man, but it was at that moment that he called upon every deity he’d ever heard of. “Let’s just get through the next ten minutes. And I’m not starting till the alcohol arrives.”

When the temporary maid arrived with a rolling bar, and Sirius had snuck quietly into a chair, clutching a blue martini spelled from an empty glass, no one was that concerned with kicking him out. In fact, James asked Remus to join them, needing their support, in order to reveal the news. No matter how much he wet his vocal chords, the alcohol seemed to dry them out.

When his voice scratched to the point of phlegm clogging his throat, Sirius straightened. “This can’t be good. You’re all choked up, mate.”

“Lucius, I think you should have a look a this before I say anything.”

Lucius, drink in hand, slouched like a sullen aristocrat, put off by the very imperfection of the day. Even his hair lay wan and slack on his shoulders.

What was James Potter whining about now? The sooner this travesty was laid to rest, the better. His head had really started to pound, what with him not knowing how to coax Draco out of the bathroom. This was beyond embarrassing.

He stood, his body language ready to make light of James’s dramatic request by disregarding anything Gringott’s manipulators had to say concerning his son’s courtship. He looked at the lines pointed out to him by James’s thick index finger. It took a second to register. In the next second, nostrils flaring with heated disbelief, he snatched the documents from James’s possession altogether.

“This can’t be.”

Why would they? How could they? “This can’t be legal.” Everyone in the room saw his thin lips quiver.

James made a last effort to be compassionate, but his heart wasn’t in it. “They have a permit to use the Ministry’s seal. There it is,” he pointed out. “It doesn’t take if the contract isn’t perfectly legal. In fact, that’s what all the smoke was about. The goblins alerted me that there’s nothing they can do to change it. We can still arrange the courtship, since the boys really don’t know each other. It would still be helpful to take things slow, but...”

“But what’s the point?” Lucius finished, looking devastated. His eyes fell on his wife, then Harry. “They can’t do this. What about the clause?”

Harry tried to control his temper. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

James sighed. “Harry, I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened, but--”

“You and Draco are married,” Lucius finished for him.

James glared at him. “Apparently, the magic used in this room, influenced the magic inherent in the contract, and --”

“And it rewrote the laws,” Lucius interrupted again. “Yours and Draco’s lines refuse to be parted, having survived so thoroughly through generations of incompatible magic. The goblins claim that your blood tells a story. Your veins have been looking for, and found, one another genetically. When you both released the rawest form of yourselves, your patroni, your magic took matters into its own hands, so to speak. A union took place. A language of spells, unknown to anyone at Gringotts, began writing itself on your betrothal parchments. No one there can read it, though they promised to find experts who’ll try.”

He gave Harry a moment to let this sink in, before adding. “It’s as if your magic took one look at Draco and set up its own barrier around him. I don’t know what this means in terms of a practical marriage, but as far as I’m concerned, you have stolen the privilege of my son’s hand. Those documents will not accept any other wizard in your place. So if you intend to be any kind of a husband to my son, you’d better be ready to take your duties seriously. You’ve left him with no other choice.”

Harry was waiting for it all to make sense. When it didn’t, he begged logic from his father. “I don’t understand. I still have to prove myself to Draco. He doesn’t want me. How can our magic override that basic fact? How can a marriage be recognized between two unwilling parties? I mean, I’m willing, but I thought I’d have more time.”

James struggled to come up with answers. He had none. “Don’t worry, we’re going to figure this out. This changes nothing. Evidently, your meeting has triggered dormant strains of magic that we don’t fully understand. We’ll do some research, stick to dates that will allow you two to get to know each other, and legally navigate around obsolete magic if we have to.”

Harry looked hopeful, but Lucius destroyed it in the next second. “Sir, there will no doubt be penalties against dissuading such spells. Any magic that old, is going to have a blatant disregard for modern morals and ethics. The magic wants what it wants. Before upsetting the balance and promising your son a happy-ever-after, you might want to discover what legalities will be challenged if this night passes without full recognition that it is their wedding night.”

James’s glasses were starting to steam from the heat rising out of his collar. He lost it. “You idiot!” He lunged, grabbing Lucius’s lapels and shaking him. Sirius leapt on the table, taking the shortest route to stop him. Remus held himself back, not adverse to James inflicting a little damage before he had to help Sirius pull him off. Both wizards had wands they weren’t using, which told everyone they were just blowing off steam. The two fathers had probably had about all they could take of one another, and since there was no chance of blowing things for their sons now, why not relieve a little stress?

In that ridiculous display of blond hair and thrashing fists, they turned too late to see Narcissa’s tearful exit. She strode, giving her husband one twist of dagger eyes, before heading back to her son. Harry saw her intention in her silent communication to Lucius. ‘I’m getting our son and leaving this place before that fucking contract can do anymore damage.’

He practically heard her speak it. For an elegant woman, she could go from zero to bitch in a second. He got up and ran after her, but not before Lucius, leaving strands hanging from James’s clenched fists, followed.

Part of Harry wanted them to understand that his magic meant no harm. He fully intended to let Draco leave tonight and have the freedom to decide if he wanted to be with him. But he remembered the dream-like vision he shared with Draco, and also suspected that this new development had its place. What if Mr. Malfoy was right? What if he let them take Draco out of here, and there were repercussions to doing so? Drawbacks that ruined his chances forever. None of them knew what they were dealing with. Maybe he could talk her into not upsetting the balance. At least not until they knew what the hell was going on. He couldn’t just let her take Draco out of there.

His relatives were still lined up outside the bathroom door, and Mother Potter was telling Draco the story of her betrothal.

“And he was so handsome, our parents didn’t dare turn their backs on us for the entire eight weeks. Lucky for us, we knew extension charms and we cast them under the table.” She snickered as if no one else but the two of them could hear her confession.

Amid rolling eyes, and shaking heads, Narcissa’s slender body threatened to come out of its dress coat and leave it behind when people couldn’t get out of her way fast enough. Her tone was viscious.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy! You’ve been in there long enough. We are going home.” Her words snapped with militant precision. People shrank back from the mere ugliness in her force of attitude. When Lucius reached for her arm to calm her, she drew her wand with a deftness as sure as any gunslinger. He drew back.

“I’m giving you to three, or this door comes down!”

Harry’s chest deflated. There was no fixing this. Behind him, his parents and their friends crowded into the corridor. Beside him, his Gamy’s smile was wry and sad for him, but brimming with self-contained entertainment. _It’s what family does_ , she seemed to speak into his mind.

He looked into her world-weary eyes and heard perfectly, _Go get your husband. Only you can get him out of that bathroom without trashing my home._

Narcissa’s angry count down had reached ‘one’.

Harry stretched his body past his uncles, to get her attention. “No! Please don’t.”

She paused, turning red, swollen eyes to him. “He’s leaving this house with me.”

He could see that the news had inspired her worst fears to come forward. Whatever she thought he was going to do, he had to reassure her that he wasn’t.

Harry held up his hands to let her know he wasn’t going to argue with her. “I’m all for that. But blasting him out of there, maybe isn’t the best way to get him to relax.”

“I don’t see you being very helpful.”

He stammered. “I’m just as much in shock as you. I didn’t know this could happen. Best case scenario, we get Draco out of there. Worst case scenario, we open our guest house to you and try to make you and your husband as comfortable as possible so that you don’t have to leave him.”

Her chest heaved. “Nothing could make me leave without him.”

“Mrs. Malfoy, that wasn’t a challenge. Look, you’re just as upset as he is. Let’s try something no one has given a chance yet.”

Her distrust was incredulous. “Like what?”

He licked his dry lips. “Like everyone getting out of this hallway and letting me see if I can talk to him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not his husband. I don’t care what the documents say. There can’t be anything legal about forcing my son’s hand. If your magic is that selfish, I can’t leave Draco with you.”

“You can let an elf watch us. You have my word that this is not how I want to start off my marriage. Not by upsetting him.”

Harry pretended the gasps behind him meant nothing.

Narcissa remained unconvinced. She and Lucius regarded Harry with the same accusing sobriety, as if he were the sole wizard responsible for leading them into a trap.

Gamy Evans, leaning quietly behind Harry, pushed herself up on her cane and told them, “These two need to work out their own problems. It won’t be a marriage till they can be trusted to do that. You don’t learn that from courtship.”

It was spoken like a seventy-two year old witch who didn’t have anything else to lose, who wasn’t concerned with anyone liking her, and possessed so much life experience that her tone reeked of boredom with their petty grievances. She turned to go. Harry watched her.

In truth, his mother’s mother was much older than seventy-two, but she did not like to reveal her witch age. She went by her muggle age, which was easier for people to believe. She was by no means a stooped hag. Her body and mind were still sharp, and she kept a practical wardrobe of dramatic black to accentuate the broaches and jewels given to her over a lifetime by her late husband.

She kept her hair spelled a rich wine color and Harry had only ever seen it down a handful of times in his life. It came to the backs of her knees and required magic to hold its form when she did it up. He could remember being small enough to hide in it when his father pretended he couldn’t find him. The cane helped her knees, which, stories say she ruined in her youth by using her body to save a muggle neighbor’s child. The little boy was severely mentally handicapped and she was the only one to see him knock the car out of gear. It was parked up the street a ways, on a downhill slope. She’d left her wand inside, simply to run out and get the paper. She ended up jumping out of her slippers, her bare feet hit the asphalt and she was able to grab the car before momentum got hold of it. She used magic, but she used her legs as well. The car drug her twenty feet before it stopped.

She lost the skin on her legs and her joints reverted back to their arthritic state no matter what magic was used, but to this day, she is revered by that boy’s family, by the witnesses, and both muggle and wizard communities as being a pillar of character and an exemplary witch.

Without saying as much, she’d basically told them they were being ridiculous for being upset about anything between the boys.

Narcissa’s pride wasn’t going to let her have the last word. “That’s easy for you to say, he’s not your son. You weren’t tricked.”

Harry’s eyes grew large. He saw his Gamy stop. She turned slowly. He stepped away from Narcissa so as not to be caught in any crossfire. His grandmother was so confident, she only kept her wand with her when she needed to leave the house. He knew there were pins in her hair that could get any magic she needed done, accomplished just fine.

“Mrs. Malfoy, no one tricked you. You came here for a marriage. You pushed that child into it, and that’s exactly what you got. You used your son to go after Harry’s magic, knowing full well that it was old and potent. Where I come from, any witch knows that means lawless. That’s why you sought it. You made that boy come here without asking yourselves what that magic might do. Be glad that it accepted him. He’s family now. Like it or not, you’re family now. It may not be a perfect wedding day, but the magic has given absolutely everyone what they claim to have come here wanting.”

Her blunt honesty appeared to knock the wind out of Narcissa, whose mouth gaped.

Gamy added before turning, “Dinner will be ready in another hour. You’re welcome to stay. Show your boy what family is, by example.”

To Harry, she was his champion. He didn’t need an explanation for why she didn’t seem surprised that his marriage was already legit. With the soft tap of her cane, she herded the rest of the group down the hall, leaving the Malfoys to weigh their options.

Part of Harry wanted to look away from the effects of their chastisement. And part of him didn’t want to miss it. While his Gamy hadn’t said that they got what they deserved because of their greed for magic, she’d made it obvious none the less. He let his eyes stray upwards, to the bitter pill they were now swallowing in private.

To be such an externally motivated couple, their marriage obviously shaped by money and magic, they looked at each other with a very intimate language. With strained eyes and unmoving lips, they spoke their concerns to one another. Harry sensed fear and regret. He felt Narcissa’s panic, and Lucius’s failure to soothe it. To be the best dressed wizards in the house, they looked the most vulnerable at the moment. Harry knew what they were thinking. They put up shields to keep the world from seeing their weaknesses, but when they looked at each other, they bared their souls. What had they done to their son?

He had enough. Not sure where it was coming from, he stepped forward with all the diplomacy of an ambassador. He decided that if they played nice, he could fake it for one evening.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.” They looked at him like the intruder into their family unit that he was. He didn’t let it stop him.

“I promise you that Draco will leave here with you. Like my dad says, this has been the craziest day ever, and in my mind, I still have to prove myself to Draco. Nobody planned this. Nobody knew this could happen, and I’m sorry everyone got this shock. The only thing I can do now, is talk to Draco. Not like he’s property, but like he has the freedom to walk out of here if I’m not saying things that please him, because he does. With that in mind, may I please have a moment to talk to him in private? By all means, use your house elves, just let me have some time with him before people start trying to drag us off to dinner. This really is about making sure he’s okay.”

Harry didn’t think they were ever going to leave. It helped when his parents showed up, waiting at the end of the hall and beckoned for the Malfoys to join them. With downcast eyes, Narcissa let her husband usher her down the hall.

 

***  
Note: I hope to have another, smaller update, this evening or sometime in the A.M., if all goes well.

[Top stories from this writer](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)

[New House](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186/chapters/47577052) (This can be enjoyed as a stand alone, or as chapter 3 of [A Wedding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186/chapters/45866704))

 


	4. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco try to communicate.

Harry waited untill everyone’s footsteps sounded far away. Then he pressed close to the door. It was cool against his ear. On the other side of it, he heard nothing. He lowered his voice.

“Draco, they’re gone now. We’re alone. Not even an elf to spy on us.”

He omitted saying that everyone was so upset, they forgot to leave a chaperon. He wasn’t sure how much Draco had heard of the latest news.

“I haven’t heard any glass break, so I’m pretty sure you haven’t gone through the window.”

He thought he heard a creek, like weight shifting.

“There’s no Valium in those cakes. We stopped letting Mother Potter take it years ago. We falsify her prescriptions. Now you know one of our family secrets. I’d love to hear one of yours.”

Nothing.

He didn’t really expect Draco to come around this easily, but he expected himself to have as much patience as it took to convince him he was a friend, not a foe. His only job at this point, was to try to break the ice.

“I really liked your dragon. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Something, like interest, pulled on him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything. When I took in that fire, I was trying to understand your magic. I was trying to get inside it and experience it.”

He felt he might as well say the rest of it. “You were in pain. I don’t think you meant to show me that, but I saw it. I wasn’t trying to extinguish your fire, just take away some of the heat. That’s a lot of rage, and I was sure that it’s not who you are.”

He didn’t want to be presumptuous, but it couldn’t hurt to let Draco know that they’d connected on some level. While he didn’t know all the details of what was going on in Draco’s life, he knew anguish when he felt it. And Draco had too much.

“My patronus drew the hurt out of you. It tried to. I tried to. I didn’t mean to drain you or to upset you in front of your parents.”

Five minutes passed in silence before he trusted himself to keep talking.  
“Just let me hear your voice. Let me know you’re not passed out in there or something. You looked pretty shaken.”

Frustration caused him to bite down on his lip. “This sucks.”

He said it more to himself than anyone, and added, “Not you. Me. I should’ve met you a long time ago. I should’ve been open to my parent’s suggestions. Then I’d know what to say to you. I’d know what matters to you. I’d get you to trust that all I want is for you to feel comfortable around me. Safe. Your parents raised you to expect that everyone would want something from you. I wonder if you even realize that people must want to meet you just because you seem amazing, not because you have anything to give them.”

Harry swallowed. His legs were getting stiff and his neck and shoulders uncomfortable from being contorted to listen for any response from Draco.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? If you just want to leave, I can let… I can show you out. You’re free to go home if you want. Our bathroom can only provide so much entertainment.”

“You don’t know anything about my parents.”

Harry’s head shot up. “What?”

Draco’s voice sounded hoarse. “I said, you don’t know anything about my parents. So don’t act like you understand them, or what they’re asking. Don’t judge them. Besides, you do expect something of me, just like everyone else, so don’t bother being chummy with me. All of you want a job done. That’s how I look at it.”

Harry could hear his voice shaking. “Listen, all that nonsense about heirs and duty can get tossed out the window. None of it matters if it’s not what you want. I could pay someone to get knocked up for me. Muggles do it all the time. If this was just about bloodlines and property, you could sell your genetic material to me and some doctor would charge us a bloody fortune to whip up the perfect baby in a petri dish. You’ve got to realize that I don’t give a damn about what I can get from you in terms of power. The only thing I want from you right now, is your friendship. My parents became friends before they fell in love. They were stuck with each other, but they gave each other a shot. If you never have my kid, if we never like each other enough to feel close, give us a chance to be friends. No strings attached.”

Even though Draco was silent, for some reason he got an image of his down-curved lips sulking on the prospect of answering Harry.

He tried a different tactic. “What are you feeling right now? I can’t know if you don’t tell me. You obviously don’t like it here, you’re the one who’s locked yourself in. What do you think is possibly going to happen if you came out and sat with my family for dinner?”

He didn’t have to see Draco to feel him recoil. Too much too soon. “Forget I said that. Just put your feelings into words. My mother says if you can do that, you can work through anything.”

Just when he thought he’d lost Draco, the other said, “I never wanted to get married, not when I realized what it meant for me.”

So Draco hadn’t heard about Gringott’s findings. He sounded closer to the door. That was encouraging, as if he wanted to make it easier for Harry to hear him.

“Go on.”

A long heavy sigh. Sniffs. “My father won’t hear of using those Muggle technologies. He says the magic will be diluted, distorted. The cells have to divide inside of my body.”

Harry wanted to rush to the quick. He wanted to say, ‘A marriage to me, means that you’ll never have to hear your father nag at you again. I’ll protect you from it. I’ll keep him away from you.’ But he knew he couldn’t promise that.

“I can’t put myself through that.” Draco’s voice trailed off. He sounded like he was talking through his hands. “Nobody knows what that does.”

Harry was pretty sure that a lot of people, particularly mothers, knew what it did, but he wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt. He sensed that Draco couldn’t find the right words for what he felt. The question he really wanted to ask Draco, had to be suppressed. Feelings first, his mother always said. They can’t be shoved under the carpet like they don’t matter, no matter how silly they might seem. They hide the problem. Get those out of the way, then logic can set in, but not before. ‘It’s a balance, Harry. It takes both reason and emotion to solve human problems. We’re not robots. Talk to me, and tell me what you’re feeling.’

His mother had used the trick on him many times, while his father joked around the issue of emotions.

“I lied to you,” Draco confessed.

Harry listened for the pattern of his breathing. They hinted that he might be crying and talking at the same time.

“There was someone in my life. But that’s been over for years. I cling to it. It ruined me. I keep my hatred for him alive. It’s useful, for when I want to reject an arrangement. I don’t even… I don’t even have to fake it.”

Harry waited, practically holding his breath.

“Most people feel the nastiness, the pure sickness of that vibe rolling off of me, and stay away. But you, you came at me harder. I tried to warn you that I’m damaged. I have nothing to offer a relationship, not even my body, but you wouldn’t take the hint. Now I’m telling you things I promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I don’t know why...”

This time, there was no doubt of his sobs. The first of them were loud and open before he choked them back. “Harry. I fucking hate you. You’re doing this to me.”

“I swear, I’m not.” Every sound Draco made, sent shocks of guilt into Harry. They were just normal sobs, but with being accused of causing them, Harry’s mind showed him images of Draco struggling to remove steel rods from his gut, put there by whatever insensitive thing Harry had done to him. He winced with the least little strain from the other side of the door.

“Draco, are you saying there is no other guy?”

Sniffing. “Not the way I said. Not currently, but he’s the reason I can’t get married.”

It was like trying not to crack a hollow eggshell. “What did he do?”

“I’m sick, Harry. He made me sick.”

Harry’s heart stopped. “How?”

“Please don’t ask me. You did something in that room. With your magic. You took something from me, and now I can’t lie to you. Please let me keep my secrets. They’re all I have. I’ll kill myself if I have to tell anyone what I did.”

Harry could hear his mother’s voice insisting that he gain trust first, ask questions later. But if Draco was sick, that presented seriously dark avenues that he needed to rule out as soon as possible. If Draco was sick, he had to get him help. His instincts sent him terrifying possibilities, all of which he had to rule out because wizards didn’t typically get sick the way muggles did. Being a pureblood, surely Draco’s magic afforded him immunity against the most alarming diseases. He tried to be content with knowing this, but he knew it was going to eat at him like acid if he didn’t get it out of the way.

“Do you have a venereal disease?” The question sounded as stupid out loud as it had in his head, but he had to ask. Wizards conquered those long ago, and only a masterful spell-crafter could cause problems for another person that way.

Expecting retaliation, he shrank from the sound of Draco’s hard-soled shoes kicking the door. The kicks were loud, tantrumesque, and brusque, as if aimed directly for Harry’s ear.

Draco said, “That’s me kicking some sense into your arrogant, over sized skull. I’m a wizard. No muggle disease is going to take me out.”

“Oh my god! Draco, I’m trying to understand. Your words were very dramatic. You said you were sick.”

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Idiot.

He hadn’t called Harry an idiot out loud, but Harry heard it. His folly cost them another ten minutes of silence as Harry figured out which road to take. There was a tremendous amount of pride on the other side of that door, and apparently it could stare suicide in the face better than it could withstand the idea of a disease. Judging from the kicks on the door, he was now persuaded to think his husband was just the dramatic type, instead of the tragic type. But he couldn’t be sure.

He dared to break the silence. “If you’re sick, I’m not going to be able to think of anything else until you tell me what’s wrong.” Surely Draco could understand this. His ears were still ringing from those kicks. “Is that why you didn’t want to undergo any tests?”

Relenting, “I’m not physically sick. Mentally. I didn’t graduate from the conservatory. I was thrown out. Legally, they had to give me credit for the classes, but my name was erased from their honors program. I attacked a teacher. I stabbed him with his own wand four times before they got it from me. Instead of jail time, I spent over a year in a psychiatric hospital. I thought I could start over again in America, but as soon as I auditioned for Julliard, the judges recognized me. They didn’t have my records, but I knew it was a matter of time before I’d be expected to comment on why I’d jeopardized an entire career, not to mention millions of dollars in funding, for a program that would enable any kid to close their eyes and learn music by pure sound. It only took five seconds for me to stab that man, and it’s taking the rest of my life to get over my reasons for doing it. If that isn’t sick, I don’t know what is.”

“… ”

Draco added, “He’s perfectly fine, by the way. I wouldn’t be talking to you if he wasn’t. But I’ll never be the same. I found work in Japan, where Sound Resonance is seen as a legitimate Musical Therapy. I don’t go near the patients. I compose music based on their individual brain waves. When they listen back, their brains are entrained with normal patterns instead of the jumbled signals of their psychosis. My father won’t hear of me going into the medical field, especially the muggle one, yet I’ve done so. I’ve ruined my chances to become a professional therapist, a doctor. But I can still make a difference. I just can’t go back to that place that put me in that hospital. I can’t let anybody, not even you, make me put my body through that. I won’t survive it.”

So much information had just whizzed by Harry’s comprehension, that he was only able to hold on to the two most important impressions. Draco had seriously tried to kill someone, and Draco was a fucking genius, operating on a level of creativity that had more to offer the world than any athletic enhancement bracelet he would ever make. So, crazy, but brilliant-crazy. And so very very angry.

He remembered the dragon patronus, and standing in the core of it’s green flame. Had he known this story, he wondered if he could’ve pulled more information from Draco’s magic while he’d had access to it. Why would a wizard choose to turn a wand into a muggle weapon instead of using it the way it was meant to be used? And what did that hospital have to do with marriage to Harry?

Knowing full well, these were leaps that he didn’t have enough faith in to try, he took the easiest road available to him. “What did he do to you, that teacher?”

The crime that Draco described, had Harry imagining the worst. This is where Draco’s voice dropped, as if he’d suddenly missed a step. All confidence gone. Harry had to strain his hearing, pressing the cartilage of his ear as flat as it would go against the door.

You don’t make excuses for attempted murder, but Draco’s intelligence conveyed that it had not been a senseless act. It was the act of someone who could not live a minute longer under some pressure, some injustice. Harry helped him. “Did he… Did he assault you? Is that why you attacked him?”

He heard quite firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Relieved, Harry closed his eyes. That kind of trauma would’ve introduced worlds of difficulty into his marriage.

“Everyone thought that. He just… I loved him. I betrayed my father’s trust for him. We were lovers. I couldn’t believe it when you pointed that out, like you could smell him on me. That was five years ago. I slept with him because he swore he needed me by his side. I thought we were married in secret, until I uncovered the fact that the whole thing was a sham and that’s what he did to hoard luxury gifts and money from his various… partners.”

Harry was careful not to interrupt the flow of information.

“I risked my family’s entire heritage and stake on magic, for that bastard. For love. The idea of marriage disgusts me. The idea of laying in anyone’s arms and learning to trust every word out of their mouth again, makes me want to put a spike gun to my head and attach the trigger to an automated, programmable robot finger that can reload and fire twenty times faster than visually observable.”

Damn.

“What has a year in a Swiss psych ward got to do with our marriage? Everything. Don’t put me back there. Don’t make me want something that’s impossible for another person to live up to. You may not be impressed with my parents, but their love is real. They’re life-bonded and it’s unmatched. And even they want to kill each other sometimes. You can’t ask me to go through that. I gave that bastard everything. All of me, and he trashed it. I wanted his guts to burn and ooze out of his body the way mine were. Death would’ve been too kind for him.”

There were no tears now. Just stilted silence. Harry’s ear wasn’t pressed quite so hard against the door. He’d heard most of what he needed to. He let the tension out of his neck and shoulders. He’d been waiting for something that would destroy his hope. He’d braced for it. He hadn’t heard it.

If a broken heart was the worst hurdle he had to help his husband overcome, he felt pretty sure that was a win and not a loss. The fact that Draco could hurt for so long and so hard over another person, told him that he was a bottomless well of emotion. And therein, had to flow love. He wasn’t frigid. He wasn’t as cold and unmoved by life as his family promoted themselves. He was angry and vulnerable, and ripe for any love Harry could show him. He would deny it, but anyone capable of feeling that much, had a heart as big as the horizon. All that power, mistreated, turns in on itself and distorts everything it feels in an effort not to feel that much pain again. Harry decided that he had the makings of a great marriage. If he concentrated on fixing the foundation of this devastated mansion, then he’d have a structure worth building a life on.

Draco was sane, just defeated. Temporarily defeated by his own emotions.

Harry slid to the floor. He couldn’t hold Draco, and was pretty sure the other wouldn’t want him to. But he put his hand to the wood and pressed his love through to the other side anyway. They sat like that for a while. They couldn’t see each other through the division. But their magic could. Their union did. It recorded Draco’s head leaning into the door frame, his long legs stretched out on marbleized tiles before him, and his back supported by a sink cabinet. On the other side of the barrier, Harry sat facing him, though he didn’t know it. Their shoulders connected with the door, completing their only point of circuitry and contact with one another.

The dinner hour came and went. No one asked them to join. The Malfoys only made a brief appearance, stopping down the hall and conversing in hushed voices. Harry hoped the weariness on his face told them everything they needed to know. He was still trying to get Draco out. He wasn’t giving up. But that was a lie. He was no longer interested in talking Draco into coming out. He wanted to go in. Join him, and leave his family to whatever they decided. That had nothing to do with him. His place was right here.

When his mother showed up and asked if she could get them anything, he requested pillows and blankets. A set for him and a set for Draco. The Malfoy house elf got them through the door.

They both knew there was more to Draco’s story, but Harry had heard enough to keep him busy reflecting on Draco’s life for one night. Besides, Draco’s silence held a different message now. He had to accept, and make peace with, the fact that Harry now knew his deepest secret. If that wasn’t something they could build trust on, what was? Harry wondered if it was an unconscious test, that Draco had revealed so much.

Draco had, very late in the day, set a task for him to prove his worthiness, and it wasn’t just the ability to sleep outside the bathroom door. It was the ability to keep a secret.

Sitting upright, with their heads resting on pillows, though neither saw the other against the door frame that supported them both, Harry asked,

“Draco, what happened to the baby.”

Draco hesitated too long. “What?”

“You said you were lovers. You and this teacher. Today, your father said your body was intended to get pregnant with the first man you had sex with, to ensure offspring. So where’s the baby?”

The question was not intended to be cruel. And he knew that Draco would not provide him with an answer. But he was going to have to come up with one. He would have all night, if not the past five years, to decide if he was going to tell Harry the truth.

 

***

 

It took some doing, but Lily and her temporary maid got the Malfoys settled in the guest house. Lily stood at her bedroom curtains, watching as every light in the extra living quarters remained on at 4 AM. Nobody, it seemed was going to sleep tonight. She looked back at the bed. James’s glasses were slid to one side of his face and his open mouth drooled as he snored. She took off her house slipper and threw it at him. He startled awake. Square hands raked over his face, knocking his glasses between the pillows.

He yawned. “What, honey?”

“I said, no one is going to sleep tonight. No one with any sense.”

He groaned. “What time is it? You can’t possibly think that staring out that window is any more productive than getting some sleep. The boys are fine. The Malfoys are… outside our immediate enclosure. We’ve done all we can do. Come to bed.”

She folded her arms and frowned. “James, technically, this is our son’s wedding night. It’s the biggest disaster in the history of disasters. Mother says the marriage isn’t cursed, but I can’t help feeling like it is. I just want to find an expert, someone who can tell us something. We’re holding that boy hostage!”

He laughed and patted the bed. “All right. It’s official. Delirium as set in. As your husband, it’s my job to get you in this bed at all costs.”

“Don’t laugh at me. You know as well as I do, if Harry hadn’t convinced him to sleep in that bathroom, we’d all be piled up on the Malfoy lawn just to keep them together tonight. None of us want to risk whatever nuptual evil that document wrote into their union. None of us know what we’re dealing with.”

“The magic knows,” James said simply. “You trust your own magic, don’t you? You trust Harry. Put them together and trust this.”

That did it. “How can you use logic at a time like this?”

He didn’t answer. It had to be a trick question. “Ummm…”

“You know what I mean. Don’t be so unfeeling. Our son will never have another wedding night. He’s missing out on a great life because we brought this situation into our home. What have we doomed him to?”

He risked turning his back on her and searching for his glasses. “Absolutely nothing but the chance to make his marriage what he wants it to be. So it’s off to a rocky start. So, what. There’s nothing he can’t do tonight, that he won’t be able to do on a thousand other nights.”

Even before he put his glasses back on, he knew that had come out wrong. The crease in her brow said ‘Damn right it did.’

“Look, you're making me crazy. I refuse to try to reason with you halfway across the room. Come lay beside me, calm down, and we’ll talk.”

“My body doesn’t want to lay still. It wants to kick somebody in the balls for this.”

“Well whose balls are you going to kick? Come lay beside me, we’ll figure it out, and I’ll hold ‘em while you take aim.”

He was just going to patronize her till she got in bed. Instead of lying down, she sat on her knees and put her fist under her chin. “Do you at least want to discuss our new son-in-law?”

“Nope.” He grabbed a bedside book he hadn’t read in weeks and pretended to thumb through the pages.

“I know what your first impression was. It’s the same as mine. Smart, spoiled, resentful, blah blah blah. But what do you really think is going on in his head?”

“Lily, don’t do this to yourself. Since I don’t have a ringside seat in the kid’s head, I’m not going to comment. That way, when he does go ape-shit and finally kills his parents, we can say that we honestly gave him a chance and tried to love him. We were too late to save him from that kind of crazy.”

He made her laugh. She struck him for it. Knowing her bony fist couldn’t do the damage she wanted, she hit him extra hard. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Frankly, that’s exactly what I want to avoid. Rest and ‘serious’ do not go well together.”

She realized she had to resort to drastic measures to keep him attentive. She unbent her legs, lifted her gown, and sat on his lap. “I really need your attention right now.”

“I’m awake.” He smiled.

It didn’t make up for the ‘thousand other nights’ comment that implied something to be desired in their domestic routine, and there were still layers of blanket and clothing between them, but it made the moment so much more interesting.

“I think Draco needs help. Professional help.”

“Here we go.”

“They’ve done something to that boy. Nobody should look that perfect. It’s not natural. And don’t you think he’s too old to be carrying around that kind of resentment towards them? I get that they haven’t allowed him much freedom, but he’s old enough to stand up to them. Harry sure as hell stood up to us. I’m just saying, something’s wound a little tighter than it should be. Than it’s healthy to be. His massive patronus practically spelled that out.”

“Just what we need. Another son for you to overreact about.”

“We have to face the obvious. Something is wrong. I want to suggest counseling for him. Professional therapy.”

“The Malfoys are going to love that.”

“You saw how big is patronus was. The Malfoys were impressed. They don’t have sense enough to realize that he’s given all his power to a childhood pet. He probably had a stuffed animal. He probably loved it and fed it his energy imaginatively.”

James made a face. “Judging by their money, I’d say he actually had a fucking pet dragon.”

“No, he’s transferred his anger at them, to his personal monster. That’s something children do. Very disturbed children.”

“Honey, we can’t fix him. Harry chose him, and we just have to stand behind Harry. That means accepting whatever messed up wizard he’s attached himself to.”

“You’re joking, but this is real. He’s our son now. I want to know his entire story. I want to know what they did to him. Nobody, and I repeat, nobody, should be locked in a bathroom on their wedding night, with their husband camped out on the other side of the door, of their own free will. I would’ve torn that door down on my wedding night. It’s the one time a girl can hold a throbbing cock in her hand and feel the love and support of her whole family behind her. The rest of the time, she’s just sneaking around, risking gossip and disgrace.”

“Really? Are you sure you’re not projecting your personal experience onto Draco’s… shortcomings?”

He couldn’t help it. He grinned.

She ignored him. “I was thrilled beyond reason on my wedding night. Finally, we didn’t have to hide it anymore. Nothing felt more liberating than wrapping my fingers around you and controlling everything you felt. Draco has that opportunity right now, and no one deserves liberation more than him. Not with parents like that. I was so excited, my mother gave me pointers on how to hold it. I couldn’t tell her that I already knew what I was doing.”

“Gamy, talked to you about holding my--”

“She was very approving.”

“Was she? You can hold it right now if you want to.”

“I’m serious. Draco should be excited, as long as he’s held back for his family. Not crying. Not locked out of reach from his husband. Something’s wrong. We need to get to the bottom of this so we can help that boy. Harry’s already made up his mind.”

“Boy, did he make up his mind.”

“Maybe it’s a trust thing. Maybe all this consumation talk upsets him. There is a lot of pressure on him to have a baby.”

“No more than the pressure on my son to make one.”

“If we got him therapy, he’d at least be able to open up about it.”

“If he were an actual kid, I’d say go for it. But he’s an adult and he doesn’t have to listen to a word we say.”

“We can still encourage him. Find some contacts. I’m not saying we can make it happen all at once, but he’s family now and it would give me tremendous comfort to think we can ease him into a place where he feels he can discuss things. Open up.”

James opened his mouth to respond, but musical notes stopped him. They trickled, like auditory drops of dancing magic, into their bedroom. In the next second, they realized the music was not only coming from downstairs, but it was also playing over the external sound system. Set up for garden parties and birthday celebrations, it was infrequently used. Their first thought was that the Malfoys had pressed the wrong button on the console built into the master bedroom of the extra bungalow. But no, a tri-panaled, Japanese illustration concealed the console and one had to know the right combination of touches to unlock it.

The Potters seldom hosted events that made large-scale partying the norm, but the sound system was a luxury that couldn’t be topped on the days when Gamy listened to her opera by the pool, or Lily tended to her shrubs. It rendered all the world into a theater, tailored to whatever private tastes programmed it. As they stared at one another, every room in their house, and every inch of their property, was drenched in dramatic, burgeoning melodies that corresponded to the keys on a piano.

They slipped on their shoes, dashing from the bedroom. The master console was in the den, and they nearly tripped over one another when they saw Harry standing in front of it.

Still wearing the suit he wore to the meeting, he didn’t look up at them. Along the walls, the television screens had been activated. There were two on each wall, oversized so that everyone at their get-togethers could see the New Year’s ball drop, watch the fight, or just pick themselves out of the crowd when the Potters decided to play hosts. Shortly after graduating, Harry had persuaded his father into making the investment as a growth incentive for the business, what with needing to smoosh associates and all. What he didn’t tell his father, was that a showy entertainment room was a great way to entertain friends. The screens were often off, when a normal television served them just as practically. But tonight, Harry remembered how to send a Bluetooth signal from his smart phone, to the Wifi in the console. The screens were alight with footage that switched between a stage and a classroom.

Lily couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. There were kids, very young children talking over the music. An interview was being conducted in edited pieces while the camera switch back and forth to a concert hall, then back to a solitary figure playing to an empty auditorium.

“Harry, what is this?” She was more concerned with disturbing everyone in the house and outside of it, especially the Malfoys. They didn’t need anymore convincing that her son was strange and not to be trusted.

Harry answered her by way of looking up from his phone and staring at the screen ahead of him.  
James was the first to get it. “Harry, is that Draco?”

Harry smiled. On all eight screens surrounding them, Draco’s smile lit the room. It was a side of him they would never have seen if Harry hadn’t found it based on the information Draco had given him.

“It’s his school. In Switzerland. I found it in the archives of their academic website. It’s a documentary. All about him. He taught two hundred blind kids how to play piano in just under a month, by watching their brains react to sound and stimulating their attention spans. He found their peak level of concentration and created a musical algorithm that boosted their learning. He patented his method. He named it Direct Retention Attainment for Goal-Oriented Nurturing. DRAGON.”

He beamed as he saw understanding coming into their eyes. “The school is fighting him for rights, but they’ve already documented that he was the one to come up with the technique. No wonder Draco doesn’t get along with his parents, or probably anyone. He’s a genius. My husband is a creative genius.”

He turned back to the screen. His glasses went opaque with images of Draco walking across a manicured campus, being followed by a film crew and ten grade-school children. Elderly teachers discussed Draco as a student, and what it was like to watch him develop his talents. Draco, seated in a large stadium hall, talking to his audience about his methods, between bursts of energetic demonstrations. He played conversationally, with his body facing the audience and his hands trailing over the keys as effortlessly as an afterthought.

The documentary was in German, but Lily caught some of it from the subtitles below. And finally, Draco in formal attire, hair plastered back from his face, as he treated Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D Minor, with the most respect and reverence he could give it. He was featured, not because of his skill, but because of his innovation.  
The filmmakers decided to juxtapose concert footage, with the same score played in a different setting. A classroom, with him wearing jeans, a Trans Siberian Orchestra T-shirt, and a mess of glowing white hair consuming all the light in the room. Eyes closed, head bowed, his hands demonstrated an emotional intelligence that gave him full range of an inner language that held his audience transfixed. His forearms, his wrists and hands, were beautiful, and appeared made to bend to the will of the music. It played him as much as he played it. If Harry hadn’t been so proud of what he was seeing, he would’ve blushed to see it in the presence of his parents.

Far from the block of ice his father exemplified, Draco’s body leaned into the notes like a lover who could not be parted from them. He was pure feeling and Harry’s face went hot watching him. This. This was asleep on his bathroom floor right this very moment. That fiasco was beginning to feel less of a source of shame on his part, and more of a triumph. That was his husband. And even though this was a low budget, student documentary, it was an effective one. Draco’s smile glowed for the camera. His eyes shined, and his confidence embraced his role as an enigmatic musician with the ability to help others reach their potential through music.

Lily and James were assaulted by positive images of Draco, and left standing at a loss when the credits stopped rolling. Seeing an entire culture taking the boy seriously enough to sit quietly in his audience, and reflect thoughtfully on his methods, reduced them to speechlessness.

The dreams drifting across Harry’s eyes were almost as disturbing. His smile extended, as if he’d just thought of the perfect solution to all their troubles. His nod was final, and mostly to himself. He looked at them.

“We have to get a piano. He won’t feel at home here, till we do. We have to get the best they make.”

He turned back to the screen and restarted the documentary. His parents were very careful to back out of the room so that he didn’t notice their escape. If another part of the world, a whole hemisphere, thought Draco deserved the attention lavished upon him by the academicians, researchers, and professionals lined up in those interviews, then maybe they needed to reconsider their previous conversation.

* * *

A/N:  I'm still working on this story. It's a lot of fun and a LOT of work, so I took a break to complete smaller projects. Will get back to it asap.

* * *

*If you want to hear and see what Draco is playing, [click here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1elGqARTb1Q). Credit at the site.

[Top stories from this writer](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031138)

[New House](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186/chapters/47577052) (This can be enjoyed as a stand alone, or as chapter 3 of [A Wedding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285186/chapters/45866704))

 


	5. Together

Draco’s ass hurt. He’d used the blanket given to him, to sit on. But he’d been in one spot all night, knees drawn, and it felt like there was nothing between his bones and the hard floor. He hadn’t slept, but stared at the surfaces around him, as if, given enough time, he could come up with a way out of this situation. The stained glass window had been dull in the predawn hours, when Harry started running his mouth, jerking him back to reality. Now it was bright and vivid with sun, and he held onto that light, trying to feel its comfort, but couldn’t.

He wanted to ignore Harry indefinitely. He didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to. He wasn’t a slave, whose ownership has suddenly changed. And there was a change, he just didn’t want to think about it too much. All that warm light, filtering through that colored glass, that he couldn’t feel, dimmed to dullness, telling him that cloud coverage had taken over the morning. The way it had taken over his life in the last day. Who was this guy? This cannot be how things turn out. This cannot become his life. He had work to do, he couldn’t settle for being someone’s trophy husband.

He cut himself on his real feelings. His parents had sold him. He was too old to feel like that, too versed in their traditions, so he dropped that thought like the sharp blade that it was. This was real. This was happening. Business or not, he’d failed to get rid of the secret hope that they loved him too much to make him go through with this. They’d just exchanged him for magic. He let that sink in while Harry begged him to talk.

***

Harry hadn’t slept all night. He was too excited to let any exhaustion matter. Even the threat of weariness, at getting Draco out of that bathroom, wasn’t enough to persuade him to rest. All the mysteries of the Universe were unfolding in his house, just on the other side of that door, and he wasn’t going to miss it. He refused to close his eyes until Draco was out of that bathroom and securely by his side. They didn’t have to share a bed, but he needed to be able to open his eyes and see him.

By 5 AM, he had gone through all that he could find about Draco on the internet. Public archives of his Switzerland school had given him a wealth of new insight into who he was. This person, sitting in isolation on the other side of the door, who’s voice he hadn’t heard since the night before, was extraordinary. Draco had gone quiet. Strangely quiet. Harry could’ve apparated in on him, but he didn’t want to seem pushy and invasive on his first night being a husband. It was simple courtesy. You don’t spring in on someone in the bathroom. Especially when you’ve promised to give them the time they need. And the space. The last thing he’d said to Draco, stood at the forefront of his thoughts. He stood in the shadows of his hallway, and placed his forehead on the door. He waited for any sound.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he asked, “Are you asleep?”

The question, the whisper with which it was spoken, disturbed the air around him. Air, connected to Draco. In that shift, he thought he felt the other’s magic inch away from him.

“I’ve been learning about you. What I can. You’ve won all kinds of awards. Your magic and your music even helped people with brain damage. If I understand it right, you replicated highly stimulated brain responses and encoded it into music for people who have blocks. They broke through their limitations. I watched two documentaries about you. About DRAGON. Direct Retention Attainment for Goal-Oriented Nurturing. Why the hell wouldn’t you or your father mention that? That’s a big deal.”

He wasn’t daunted by the silence.

“I put magic in semi-precious stones and crystals, to work with a person’s unique issues, but I’ve never had results like yours. It’s like you’re using magic for what it’s meant for. To really help people, not opening doors without touching them, or making a cup of tea that never runs out. I can’t tell you the admiration I have for people who use their talents to carve out a better way to exist in this world.”

He didn’t mean to gush. Draco was probably sick of that, but as far as husbands go, he felt like he’d hit the jackpot. With an arranged marriage, things could’ve been so terribly different. Draco could’ve been all looks and no substance, angry just because he didn’t know how to get what he needed from life, and taking it out on others. Angry because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t do, what he expected others to do for him. Harry had seen enough of that in his peer group. Eager people, told they could have and do anything they want by a visionary society, that neglected to mention detailed steps about achieving exactly how to do that. There were too many moving parts, both inside and outside of themselves. Parts society doesn’t even have names for. The blunt-force methods hammered into them, don’t work. It’s like every individual life has to invent new answers for themselves every step of the way. Any one who tried to cling to the same spot, was in real trouble. That spot, like an escalator step, was made to be useful one moment, and made obsolete by the new cycle of energy the next moment.

It’s okay if Draco was a little damaged. To Harry, the flaw was actually a little refreshing. It gave him a job to do. It made him care beyond just having a husband, and gave him a way to be useful to him. That was his ticket to proving they could have a great partnership.

“Have you thought about what I said?”

He had to be careful. His family was up, and surely lurking with good intentions. But this was still private. When he heard nothing, he said, “If you’re awake, just make a noise. This is a big change for you, it’s okay if you’re not ready to talk.”

He told himself that, anyway. This morning, his goal was to get Draco out of that bathroom, and talking.

From the other side of the door, a very still voice replied, “So you admit it. You’ve done something to me. I feel a change.”

Oh, yeah. How to break the news gently?

“It wasn’t intentional. I haven’t taken anything away from you. Not even your freedom. I’d still escort you out of here right now, if that’s what you wanted. I’d give you time to go home and think about it. You’re not being torn from your life.”

“What did you do?”

Harry tried to gauge how stable Draco’s voice sounded. Could he trust that apparent calm, and tell him the truth?

“It’s rare, but my magic sometimes escapes me and does what it wants. Or rather, it does what it knows I want. And I wanted you. Gringott’s now recognizes our contract as complete and legitimate. Legally, we’re married. But we’re not married, to me, until you grant me that privilege.”

He rushed to amend, “I mean, it’s real to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine. But it can’t be against your will. I intend to be fair to you.”

He didn’t know how to add, “But I’m not backing down, and I’m not giving you up, now that it’s come to this,” without sounding tyrannical and deserving of Draco’s scorn.

“The only thing I ask of you right now, is to meet me halfway. Drop a few comments. Don’t shut me out completely. Be willing to share the same room with me for a few hours a day, that sort of thing. We have to have some way of getting to know each other. If you just want me to be quiet and stop talking to you, I can do that for a little while, but not all day. Tolerate me, until you see that I’m not your enemy. If we focus on becoming friends, maybe there won’t be so much pressure about everything else. Don’t hate me, just because I saw you and wanted you, and my magic did the rest.”

He waited. What he heard was almost a whisper.

“I’m so tired,” Draco breathed. “Of not having my life be mine. This is a prison. I’ve gone from one prison to another.”

“That’s not true. It won’t be a marriage until you say it is. You get to control that. I’m not gonna give you up, but I’m not going to push you, either.”

“I excelled at school, because I believed that life was like the pull of gravity. All you had to do, to be happy, was push your abilities so hard and so passionately, that you escaped the inertia that keeps people like my parents so distracted from it. It’s not that they’re not happy with one another. It’s that they are too competitive to see it for what it is. They trivialize it as something commoners strive for. But what they don’t know is, if they didn’t have excellence to hunt for sport, they’d have no happiness.”

Harry listened, hoping to make sense of him.

“I made myself happy, before I met him. I haven’t recovered from that, and now here you are, asking me to fill my mind up with you. Like you’re just going to take up a little bit of my time. No pressure. No inconvenience. Just spit out a family, while I’m busy piecing myself together. Just tell you all my fucking secrets, because you think I owe you that. Just because you and your magic refused to take no for an answer.”

“Hey!”

“Hey, nothing. To really be free of you, is to walk out of here feeling no obligation to you whatsoever. And right now, that’s all I feel. I tried to apparate out. Your house wouldn’t let me. Your magic is very coercive.”

“Or,” Harry countered, “maybe you’re just very resistant. You’re fighting something you have no reason to fear. I’m not lifting a finger against you. Listen, you came to me. You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve stood up to your parents. The only thing I’m guilty of, is saying yes to something I wanted, and I’m hardly going to feel guilty about that. You’re the one blaming everyone else for your circumstances. Your parents, your ex boyfriend, me, everyone but you.”

He gave Draco a chance to come back at him. When nothing came, he continued.

“The truth is, there’s no one who could’ve made certain that you were where you wanted to be yesterday, instead of here, than you. But no, you had to listen to mommy and daddy and let yourself be pulled along. You had the power to stop it before it started. You. And you didn’t. I get that you’re so frustrated with your life, that you’re not thinking clearly. That you need a good cry, a good tantrum in a rubber room, maybe. No, sorry, I didn’t quite mean it like that. Just that, maybe you’re here, in my home, because I can actually help you. You’ve been horrible to yourself. You got sidetracked from your work. You’ve let your parents subject you to things you could’ve just said, ‘fuck off’ about. And obviously, you’ve been through something so horrible, you’re willing to tell me all the dark secrets you can think of, to scare me away, rather than tell me about the one that matters the most.”

He paused to breathe.

“Maybe you need a husband, or something like a third parent at least. One who’s got your back. Whatever caused you to not stand up for yourself, is exactly what makes it necessary for other people to think and act on your behalf. Then you blame them for making the wrong decision, when you’re the only one qualified to make it. Your parents are just waiting for you to be so sure of what you want, that they need not meddle in your business. They won’t be convinced until you make it clear to them that you won’t tolerate another decision about your life, made by them. That’s where I come in. I’m giving you the space to make your own decisions. But you’ve got to stop blaming other people for things you have perfect control over.”

He heard a gasp. Draco’s outrage sounded strangled and thick, as if he could barely talk through it.

“I don’t have any control, you bastard! I was born into their contracts. I was given life, on the condition that I abide by their rules. They used magic to make me what they wanted me to be, before I took my first breath. They wanted their idea of the perfect child. You wouldn’t know anything about magic like that. Yours might be old, but you’ve forgotten the old ways.”

“Okay.” Harry steadied himself. “So they asked for a perfect child, and they got one. Your service is over. Now that you’re an adult, you owe them nothing. You’ve got to put an end to it.”

“They asked for my life, my devotion, my promise to honor them. That means… ”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I’ll never be free.”

How could he think that? “Draco, what is it that you truly want to do, that you think you can’t do? You’ve done more with your life than most people I know. The more we talk about your parents, the more we get distracted from your happiness. I won’t help you to blame them. But I will help you do whatever it is you think they’re keeping you from.”

“You can’t help me. No one can help me.”

There it was. The ultimate epitaph. Said just before people made the worst decisions they could make. Harry tried to recall if there were any sharp objects in the bathroom. There were certainly no medications. His husband was going to be a handful. He was up for the challenge. The guy’s life had just changed, he was allowed some coping fails.

Before he could think of anything else to say, Draco murmured through the door, “It’s not what I want to do, it’s what I don’t want to do.”

“Which is?”

“You’re so goddamn clever, figure it out.”

It takes Harry a minute. “Is it what I think it is?”

“Don’t fucking say it. Don’t.”

“You don’t want to be held to a contract that makes you have a baby.”

He heard a groan, as if it hurt Draco to have the words pulled from his mind.

“I’m a male wizard. Just because it’s possible, doesn’t mean I should do it. I’m not a nurturer and the idea disgusts me. You try having a kid through all that emotional garbage. It’s not fair to the kid or to me. But it’s what they want, and my body is programmed to do it.”

Confused, Harry looks around, making sure no one is in sight. He leans closer. “But Draco, you already  had a baby. Right?”

He could practically feel Draco shaking his head on the other side. Denial just seemed to come with him. In any other person, Harry would’ve dismissed them as liars. For Draco, he made an exception. He’s afraid. Intelligent people only lied when they’re afraid, not because they’re bad people.

Draco deflected that moment of truth. “I’m on birth control.” You idiot. His tone was implicit.

Harry grimaced.

“It’s formulated especially for me. It uses my magic. It’s an experimental potion, and I’ve been taking it since all that happened with him. Kevin. I’m not sexually active, and I haven’t been in five years. It’s my way of guaranteeing my safety, should I ever have a weak moment. It gives me back my control.”

“So you’ve never had a child?”

He waited. The answer took its time.

“I’ll do anything to keep that from happening.”

It wasn’t the answer that he was looking for, but it was an answer. As honest as it rang, it didn’t feel satisfying. Most people would just leave it and be happy that Draco had volunteered a little more insight. But something bothered Harry.

“Is that why you didn’t want testing done? They’d find the potion in your system?”

“What is it with you and all these questions?”

“You know, if you wanted to test me…  If you wanted to find out if you could trust me, a secret like that would be the perfect strategy. What I do, or don’t do, with information like that, could make or break our marriage. You actually have more control than you think.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. It’s just that I feel your magic. You’re saying one thing. And your magic is saying something else.”

On the other side of the door, Draco flinched, looking attacked. His magic had already betrayed him once in the past twenty-four hours.

Harry continued. “Since magic doesn’t use words, it’s not that you’re lying. It could be that you and your magic don’t agree on this one subject. Disharmony. That’s what I feel. You have every right to feel mixed up. I will never have to face what you’re facing, so I promise to listen and set my judgments aside. Last night, you said that when you attacked your teacher, you wanted to make his guts burn like yours did. What did that mean?”

“You don’t let up, do you? You’ve kidnapped me with your magic, and now you’re demanding that I talk about the worst time in my life. You’re proving yourself, all right. I can’t talk about it. Ask me anything but that.”

“I have to know. If there’s a child out there somewhere…”

“There’s not. Believe me. Don’t make me relive that. Don’t put me back there. Trust me when I tell you, there isn’t one.”

“Draco…”

“If you want me, you’ll drop it.”

Harry wished he could drop it. The more he felt for Draco, to understand him, the more he honed in on this uncomfortable spot. His magic was pointing there. There’s the trouble, dig here.

“We have to start as honestly as we can. You know I’m not traditional, or you should by now. Did you give the baby up? I would keep that secret. I would take it to my grave. But I would investigate, just to make sure that it’s safe and cared for. The past can stay in the past, but we’ve got to move forward with only the best intentions. Whatever you’ve done, we can face it together. If it came down to it, I would adopt your child.”

Draco’s fist hit the door and left it vibrating, throwing Harry’s head back.

“Oh my God, you lunatic! How dare you talk to me like I’m some irresponsible teenage muggle? The last thing I need right now, is some attitude of superiority. Just because it could never happen to you, doesn’t give you the right to interrogate me like this. My personal life is still mine. No one, not even a husband, is going to force me to talk about things that are none of his fucking business. I. Don’t. Have. A. Child. You asshole!”

“Oh my God. Draco, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. If you say there’s no child, there’s no child. It was just too important to not make absolutely sure. I had to press. I’m done now. I promise I won’t ask anymore questions today, if you come out. I’ll drop it.”

Too late. A loud, brittle cacophony exploded on Draco’s side. There went the mirror. Judging by the growl that followed, he knew that Draco had punched it.

“Draco?”

“Go away!”

Great. He’d all but promised to get Draco out without destroying Gamy’s house. Technically, the house was like a commune that belonged to everyone, but they all knew who was really running things. Without her matriarchy, they’d be a scattered assortment of family and friends. Gamy made them all want to be here. Even Remus’s and Sirius’s friends, wanted to be here. It was a place where the option for solitude came with knowing someone was always in the house if you needed company. If you didn’t want to feel alone. Sometimes you needed the people you knew to just be there, whether you talked to them or not. The place was maintained for him, kept beautiful, private, and he was free to come and go without questions. Moving out was not a priority, and he hoped to get to the point where Draco felt like that too. But if these tantrums were going to keep up, he’d have to take Draco away from here. His energy was too conflicting with the peace Gamy had created. Their own home might be inevitable, but Harry still felt he needed his family and didn’t want to have to leave just yet.

“Draco, stop that this instance! I will come in there. I’ve been courteous to you all this time. I’m going to have to insist that you come out.”

“I will not!”

“Why!”

“You won’t leave me alone. You’re already so fucking needy and controlling.”

Another smash, and crunching between leather soles and tiles. A dull thud bounced off the door.

“Draco.” Man, to be such a pureblood, his husband was violent. Now that bit about, ‘I stabbed my teacher with his wand,’ was coming into greater focus. He fought down the urge to put his head in his hands, and said, “I’m coming in there. I will restrain you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” came another spitting growl.

It was followed by a pop so distinct, Harry could see his Gamy’s porcelain soap dispenser reduced to powder as pieces of it sprayed across the floor.

It’s all show, his suspicion told him. He won’t stand up to his parents, he won’t do anything serious. He feels he has no control. That’s exactly how children behave when all their power is taken from them. He has no other out. He’s never developed it. Still, what if he hurt himself? If his magic won’t let him leave, then he might not be able to protect himself with it.

Another curse, another crash. That better not’ve been Gamy’s irreplaceable Monet painting, that was given to her by the artist, himself. Magic couldn’t always restore an artist’s blend of colors.

He hated to be ‘that husband,’ but if he didn’t act, Draco was going to hurt himself. Talk about having a dragon by the tail. Part of him stalled, because he knew Draco was right. He’d been unable to stop himself from pushing too hard, too soon. 

To his horror, the next sound he identified, was the sound of Draco’s shoe stomping the one window in there. That window had all kinds of security wards on it, and wouldn’t break, but it sounded like Draco wasn’t letting up. If he continued, he was going to piss the house off. Those were mostly Gamy’s wards and had her temperament. She gave people a chance to do the right thing, then she struck. Draco was ten seconds from receiving an electric shock that could throw him off his feet. But if Gamy knew that he was now family, Harry couldn’t be sure if the house would retaliate at all. He couldn’t chance it. For all Draco’s heat and anger, he still struck Harry as desperately, emotionally frail. Like, not in the best of health, no matter how good the exterior package looked. He was one strained blood vessel away from having an aneurysm.

Now who’s being dramatic, he scolded himself.

Instead of forcing the door open or apparating, he used a charm to raise the vibration of his body mass only slightly. That’s all he needed to sidestep physical density. He was only slightly less dense than the wood of the door. It was something equivalent to walking between raindrops, only in this case, Harry was walking between matter, sidestepping molecules by quickening his own just enough to keep his body intact, but above the rate and speed that the wood vibrated at. He remained visible while doing so, and anyone watching, would’ve seen a person appear to walk through the door. Once on the other side, he would be as solid as the door and could no longer pass through. The charm only lasted seconds, and could be fatal if one ran out of time before passing through solid objects.

To him, this was the kind of magic his family took for granted. The few times he’d done it in front of other wizards, they’d looked at him like he was on fire. They always wanted to know how he did it. He told them, until his father ordered him to stop. “We don’t know how other people will use it. That kind of magic is kept in our family for a reason, for the safety of others.”

After all, no prison or bank vault could hold up to it. It was the kind of magic outlawed in polite society, but Harry didn’t hesitate to use it in his home.

He was glad he stepped through when he did. Draco had found a way to support his weight with the curtain rod and shelving, so that he could raise his body high enough to kick the window. He saw Harry and stopped. His chin trembled. “What the hell…”

Harry raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I’m sorry, I had to come in. I can’t let you…”

His voice trailed off. Across from him, plastering the wall above the toilet and near the window, were faint red hand prints. They stamped over the beige paint as if Draco had found a way to walk on his hands with bleeding fingers. Some places were darker than others. A look at Draco’s hands revealed nothing, as they were immediately balled into fists. Draco jumped down and backed into the crevice between the shower and window.

“Stay away from me.” He drew his wand.

“Did you cut yourself? That’s a lot of blood.”

Draco shook his head. “No, it isn’t. You haven’t seen blood until you’ve gutted a lying, thug of a teacher. Nobody takes advantage of me. I don’t care if this is your home.”

Harry thought he could’ve relied on the ward that would let a wand be taken from a guest or intruder in the house, but that wasn’t the way to instill trust.

“Believe me, all I want to do is give you your space, but not if you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

Draco’s wand shook. His voice tightened, and he spoke through his teeth. “What do you care? You don’t even know me. I’m nothing more than a prize to you.”

“You’re a human being, and you’ve obviously been through something that the rest of us can’t imagine.  Put your wand down. Let me get you some help. Your parents’ elf, maybe. My gran can heal you. I can try, but she’s better at it. Let someone take a look at you.”

Draco’s laugh was bitter. “That’s all people have done. Take looks at me. Judge me. And my family. I need to be in a place where there’s no people. Where no one wants to go. A place that’s too uncomfortable for the average person. Lots of snow and ice, and freezing temperatures. I didn’t think it would really come to this. You tricked everyone. When I get out of here, that’s exactly where I’m going to go. My magic will take care of me.”

Instead of responding with anything close to compassion, Harry blurted, “Your magic knows that we belong together. It would let me find you.”

He made the mistake of stepping closer. Panic enlarged Draco’s eyes.

“Don’t try to hex me,” Harry insisted. “If it worked at all, it could backfire on you. This house protects us. It’ll protect you too now, if you let it.”

“I don’t belong here.” His face had lost its underlying creamy tone, and now heated his eyes and nostrils with redness. Anger flushed through Draco. It moved off of him in waves and left crystal facets standing, unshed, in his eyes. Harry forced himself not to take another step.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, and it isn’t right. But give it a chance. We’re both wizards, we’re both intelligent. Other couples have surely started out with less. I promise, we can just be friends until it feels right to move on. Think of me as a flatmate. You can still come and go as you please.”

“Then why can’t I leave here now?”

“I don’t know. It must have something to do with the contract. And you’re so upset. I’ll bet the magic that governs our marriage, doesn’t want to leave things this way. I sure don’t. If you have to leave, I’d rather see you do it with forgiveness in your heart. Forgive my magic. It didn’t mean to upset you or to trick you. You offered yourself, and it said yes, without question. Without preamble. If your parents don’t know how valuable you are, it does. I do. I couldn’t give anyone else a chance.”

For a second, Draco’s face softened, releasing a bit of tension. Those last words had penetrated his armor. Harry got excited. Too excited. “And whatever your past is, whatever’s going on with your ability to have a child, we can work that out. I will never ask you to do it, if it’s that uncomfortable for you.”

He thought this was the pinnacle of his acceptance, of being the better wizard that Draco wasn’t expecting. But the next instance had him shuddering with regret.

“Liar!” Draco shouted. “Look at me and tell me that you haven’t already thought about sleeping with me. You’re disgusting. Hiding behind a contract. You want me in your bed, you don’t care what happens to me. Yeah, you’ll be the perfect spouse until you get what you want.  You’re magic didn’t consider my feelings before, it won’t consider them after. If you wanted six freaking kids, it would try to put my body through it. Your magic is tyrannical and you can go to hell, Harry Potter.”

He still clutched his wand, but it lowered. He turned his back to Harry and punched the wall in the same instance. It obviously hurt more than he could tolerate, and that’s when he settled for slapping it. Harry wanted to say something, was poised to, but he noticed the way Draco hit at the surface. He was like a child refusing to cry, only he was. Mournful grunts were escaping him, even though he tried to suppress them. He was practically choking on grief-filled sobs that he would not let out. So they tore through his winces and curses, astonishing Harry as he watched Draco’s prints deepen the red on the wall. He hesitated, not because he was horrified of Draco, but because he was horrified that he was right. His very first thoughts of seeing him, had been filled with lust and entitlement.

He didn’t feel he had the right to move forward, to touch Draco even just to restrain him, but the changing color of the wall, got him leaping into action. He slipped on broken pieces of things, but sped into Draco’s body with enough impact to swing him away from the wall. One jerk, and the wand slipped free of his slick hands. Draco’s limbs were long and subtle in their strength as they struggled out of Harry’s grasp. Harry, shorter but stronger, put all his weight into caging the other’s arms to himself. He was counting on Draco’s lack of street skills, to make subduing him easier. Magic would’ve been easier, but cold. He had to face this battle at ground level, hand to hand. Touch still meant something in his family.

Draco was wiry, flailing, and all hysteria, but he was lighter than Harry expected. It was fairly easy to wrestle his arms down and back him into the same corner where he’d slunk upon Harry’s entrance.

“No, no, no. I can’t let you hurt yourself.” To his relief, Draco’s resistance eased, but he was still smarting with curses and accusations. Harry grabbed for his hands. Palms up, they were red and swollen.  Smeared, blisters and bruises covered them. This was unthinkable to his mind, which needed to know how Draco had the time to do this much damage to himself. These were the types of wounds that took hours worth of dull pounding before the skin broke open. Like someone locked in a closet, trying to be heard by neighbors. A normal person would’ve given up from the pain. The sight told him more about Draco’s state of mind than anything. And that scared him.

  
He had to have done this to himself before, like all night, just smacking the floor or the wall. Something occurred to him, but he had to calm Draco down.

“Listen, I’ll let you go, but you’ve got to stop doing that. Don’t hurt your hands. If you can’t play your music, you’ll have no escape. I’m going to buy you a piano.”

Draco stilled. He looked startled and caught off guard. When he swallowed and looked at Harry, it was the look of defenselessness.

Get him where it matters, Harry thought. He thinks you don’t care. “Until you warm up to all this, at your own pace, you can have a set of rooms to yourself. I’ll buy you the best piano they make, whatever equipment you need, and you can stay in there all day. All that I ask, is that you have dinner with me and my family. One hour out of every evening. And not even every evening, just when our schedules allow it. You’ll still travel. You’ll still promote your projects. And I’m sure Gamy will let me make renovations. It’s part of my inheritance because we always want the family together. Wizards could see it done inside of two weeks. Whatever else needs doing, can be done with magic. That’s not to say that we won’t have our own properties in other places. We will, but my family believes in putting down roots before branching off. Get to know them, before you shut them out.”

He almost added, ‘Our kids will need as much family as possible surrounding them,’ but thought better of it. It was talk of children that set Draco off.

“What’s the most expensive, quality piano they make? I don’t know anything about them. You can trust my research or you can just tell me, to make sure you get what you want. I’ll have it custom made, and for that you have to talk to me. You can have anything you want, like that wizard muggles loved so much. Gamy still has his old albums. Liberace. He had pianos made of diamonds and gold, and she said he was really a wizard. So don’t hold back. Give me something to do for you. You’re hurting, and I need to know how to make it stop. I won’t touch your body. You’re right, you’re gorgeous, and my mind can’t help but go there. It did, the minute I saw you. I’m sorry. But we have to get out of this bathroom.”

Draco had caused so much commotion, he couldn’t be sure their conversation was still private. If his dad and Gamy had reason to think they should be worried, they could very well listen in. Since no one had barged in yet, they must still be trusting that he could get Draco out.

In his arms, the other remained stiff, but he felt Draco’s tension drop a notch. He didn’t dare take if for granted this time. But he appreciated the opportunity to be this close, absorbing his uneasiness. It felt like he was doing something right. The scent of stress, along with traces of yesterday’s aftershave, and even the herbal remnants of Draco’s shampoo, went well with the weight of him in Harry’s arms. He could do this. He could hold this guy indefinitely. But right now, he had to listen to what Draco’s body was telling him. It had relaxed a few notches, but he was still poised to spring if he had to.

He sneered at Harry, “Don’t you dare get anything so obscene. I’m not fucking Liberace. All I need is an upright.”

Okay, some people would’ve been put off by the arrogant twist of mouth, but he saw it as a green light. Go.

“My husband is going to have the best.”

 “I’m not your husband, no matter what any contract says. And I can get any piano I want, myself. I have far more money than you do.”

“It’s my gift.”

Draco squirmed. “I don’t want your gift. I have pianos going waste around the world.”

Harry loosened his hold slowly. “But you don’t have one from me. It has to be significant. You’ve just influenced my decision to have it custom made. You’re doing great work with your music. My gift will acknowledge that you’ll do great work with me in your life. I honor you. Let me.”

As soon as he could, Draco broke free of him and moved just fast enough, just far enough, to calm Harry’s fear that his tantrum was over. He pressed his head to the wall, silent and thinking, as if he had no choice but to consider Harry’s words.

Then, “Well, if you must make ridiculous gestures, don’t waste your money on anything less than a Böesendorfer.  And don’t embarrass me with anything as American and tacky as Liberace’s stage props. Do it well. Elegant, or don’t do it. Whatever you come up with, at least the quality won’t suffer. The sound won’t suffer. I sometimes compose on an electric piano and acoustic guitar, but the true test is in the vibration of the wood. That’s where the soul lives. If I can feel that, I’ll be okay.”

“Absolutely. Anything.”

Draco’s eyes rolled away from him, and appeared to be resigning himself to his surroundings and his circumstances. He was trying not to look at Harry and the bathroom mess at the same time.

“I don’t feel very well.”

“Let me take your arm. Walk you out of here, and your family can floo out. Your parents stayed in our guest house. That’s one option. Or you can let me escort you home. Or, I would love it if you just took a room upstairs that was completely private, and completely your own, and rested. I’d bring you something to eat. I wouldn’t stay. I don’t think you’ve slept all night, either.”

Tired eyes with pale lashes considered it. Harry was struck by the contrast between his hair and much darker eyebrows. He could’ve been drawn with an artist’s brush and come to life. In some ways, he had been.   
Draco looked sick with worry. “Your family hates me. If they didn’t, they do now.”

“My family is very emotionally intelligent. Not rocket scientists, but nurturers. The people who help others grow. By now, my mother has explained to everyone that they are not to upset you in any way. No one is going to be allowed to be insensitive to your needs. Not in this house. No one expected the magic to be so bold, and it’s not fair to you. My family knows that. Who wouldn’t lock themselves in the most private place they could find. You’re authentic. You’re not happy, and you let everyone know it. That’s far more impressive than sitting at our table faking a smile and dying inside.”

Draco looked more sad than encouraged. At least he wasn’t hitting the walls.

Harry added, “If anyone upsets you, tell me. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, tell me. Let me handle it. Nobody in this house will, but lots of people come and go at times.”

He didn’t answer and Harry knew what he was thinking. To acknowledge Harry, meant acceptance on some level, and he wasn’t ready to openly accept anything. His manner said that this was temporary defeat, if anything. He’d regroup. He’d come back strong. But he did need rest. A truce. He was looking grayer by the minute. He pushed off the wall and went to the sink.

Harry waited, watching him the way a parent watches a child who doesn’t know they’re in the room. The sink was old fashioned. Draco gripped the handle with his sleeve wrists. Harry noted that he could’ve used a little wandless magic to move the handles. Most wizards can move objects an inch or so without a wand. The fact that he didn’t, hinted of either his exhaustion, or the belief that he could no longer use his magic due to the marriage or house wards.

He held his hands under the hot tap until it scalded. Harry was quick to draw his wand and piece the soap dispenser back together in time to hold it over Draco’s hands. He accepted it recalcitrantly.  He lathered and rinsed twice as if it were a routine chore. Then he splashed his face with cold water. Harry stepped aside to let him get at the guest towels himself. His prim lack of words warned of annoyance, and clued Harry not to take chivalry too far. This didn’t mean that everything was okay.

When his hands were dry, he looked at them. They were still red and blue in places, and trembled. “I wish I had gloves,” he said more to himself than to Harry.

Delighted, Harry knew of a clean pair that always sat in Gamy’s gardening cupboard. With a locator spell, he manifested it through the ethers. They appeared in his hands and he gave them to Draco, minus telling him they were for ladies. Another charm, and they actually fit.

“I look like Micky Mouse. Can you refine the appearance? They should conform to my hands. Conceal them, not attract attention.”

Right. Another tweek, and the crease between Draco’s brow smoothed on its own. He held his long fingers out, pleased. “Much better.”

A final, resolute breath, and he dropped his hands. “What now?”

Harry held out his arm. “Take my arm. And no matter what is facing you on the other side of that door, hold your head high. I’ll get you home. I’ll call to see how you’re doing, and I’ll contact you in a few days, just trying not to be pushy. Think about what I said.”  
Draco’s nod was barely perceptible. He tentatively reached for Harry’s arm, but said, “Wait. I can’t leave this mess. I don’t want your family to see this. Can you fix it?”

Instead of asking questions, Harry jumped at the opportunity to do so. The mirror went back into place. Grit under their feet restored itself into the solid figurines and knick-knacks that were sentimental to Gamy. Candles went back into their holders, and the Monet painting hung itself back up. The most glaring problem, the bloody hand prints, faded away as Harry took a careful moment to cleanse them from the wall magically. They had been pounded through the moistened paint, and soap and water would not have gotten rid of them anyway. For a moment he wondered if this wizard’s blood would just show through new layers of paint. His family’s magic could read the trauma in Draco’s blood. The house itself, now knew secrets about his husband that he didn’t know, because of those hand prints.

When the last of them were gone, he turned back to Draco, held out his arm, and waited for him to make good on the deal.

With downcast eyes, Draco took his arm. His hold was committed, even if he wasn’t. His manner said, ‘Don’t embarrass me and I won’t embarrass you.’ His head lifted as Harry opened the door for them. They took their first dutiful steps forward, and exited together.

* * *

Note: Draco's "theme" is starting to resemble a certain original novel I'm not allowed to name. Don't worry, there will be a totally different story and outcome. I'm just amazed at how the Mpreg thing has rooted itself into my passions after all these years. Only men can wrestle with the conflicts of birth control, and having that power denied to them, in a way that I can't say with women (not yet, anyway) because the world is so used to women.

If I can make it "believable" with a man, it's extra impacting. I love using Draco to explore ideas of teen or uneasy pregnancies, no matter how old he is, as long as he conveys that sense of vulnerable strength, trying to take action and hold it together, even when he doesn't know what to do. I love that. This is also how his character is developing in the Unbearable Harry story, Mpreg and all. Apparently, he's giving me the love I need right now, from all directions. I don't see him as weak or effeminate at all. He did such a good job showing us his inner struggle against Harry and his family (when the movies finally let him be serious), that I always want that level of emotion from him, and I'll put him through anything to get it. To be concerned for him, is to feel love for him. And since that's bliss, I keep him and all my favorite characters in situations that elicit concern. But there will be a happy ending, as promised. Warning, though. What he has to reveal might get graphic and painful. Be prepared to skip what makes you uncomfortable. I will still attempt to write it as beautifully as possible. 

Thank you to all the readers who commented so sweetly and left kudos. It’s a joy to write for you!  :-) <3


	6. Storm

A click on the lock sent everyone scattering. Harry and Draco never heard the commotion their families made to scramble away from the door and act natural. Thanks to last minute muffling charms, that Gamy realized she had to cast because she could not keep her household from squabbling over who got to hear what was being said through the door, the boys were protected from a lapse in grace and decorum. It was her idea to have them looked in on, but she never anticipated having to intervene on the intervention.

Those who couldn’t hide in time, tripped over one another and ended up some distance down the hall just as Harry opened the door. Lucius had fumed because he’d been the furthest from the door, and Sirius the closest, with his ear against it. If anyone had a right to listen, it was him. When everyone jumped at the sound of the lock, he’d been run down and stepped on by the likes of James, Lily, and Remus, who rounded the corner and escaped being seen just as the boys stepped out. They were arm in arm. This left Lucius both speechless and hopeful as his wife helped him up from the floor. 

They were only there because Gamy had asked Sirius in particular, from her parlor, “They’ve tripped my wards. Be a dear, and go check on those boys.” 

The morning was getting on. Neighbors and well-wishers had been arriving since dawn, along with owls bearing inquiries as to whether or not the morning newspapers were telling the truth. Gringotts had posted the marriage, and it ran printed alongside Announcements and Obituaries in all the main wizarding papers. The Prophet had taken it further and printed an exposé full of speculation on the marriage of Draco Malfoy and his relatively unknown husband, a member of one of Britain’s oldest and private magical families. 

There had been lights flickering when Gamy singled Sirius out, not James. From her tone, she needed a job doing that Sirius was better suited to. He was sure, protective, with just the right amount of not giving a rat’s ass what anyone thought. James would’ve made a show of being above eavesdropping. Sirius had no such qualms. When James started to protest, Sirius gave him one look that said what everyone else was thinking. The Malfoy boy wasn’t stable. But all he said was, “My Godson might need a little help.”  
   
James backed down, but followed. Lily trailed behind him. Once everyone saw that not even she was protesting, beacon of all things righteous that she was, they joined in. The Malfoys, who could not be coaxed any closer into the fray, waited in the next room, eyeing their tea service, and each other, with weary anticipation. This had gone on long enough, yet neither wanted to be the first to suggest they actually leave their son to work out his problems with this family. When they saw a long line of Potters  marching past the room, they refused to be left out of whatever new development they were not being told about. 

Guests had been relegated to the back terrace for cake, until Gamy began turning them away. She kept looking out the window at the sky and smoothing the pins in her hair. Something about the way the day was changing, clouds gathering, told her that today was not a day for festive gatherings, marriage or not. The occasion was going to be more work than pleasure, and she made it a priority to get her house settled. People sent gifts anyway. She let them accumulate in her parlor while Lily ignored owl inquiries as to whether there would still be a formal wedding celebration, and was in charge of tactfully turning unannounced family and guests away. She was not as successful as she’d hoped, and seats kept having to be added to the tables on the terrace. 

She knew that some of James’s more staunched cousins weren’t leaving until they saw the boys firsthand, themselves. They were only here to get as much information as possible on the merger. The news was causing such a stir that her sister had come all the way from Surrey to be with her. That was quite a morning commute for a housewife with no magic, whose husband abhorred wizards. But Petunia had stood up to him, claiming that, “If my sister didn’t tell me about this, that means it wasn’t planned with any certainty and something’s gone wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, this is no better than eloping. She needs me. I’m going.” 

Her husband insisted she travel with their son for protection. “Any funny business, Dudley, and you call me right away. I don’t trust wizards, no sir.”

Dudley had nodded, torn between loyalty to his father and keeping his mother happy. He was Harry’s age and adored the magical side of his family. He understood his father’s point. Magical people could be intimidating, but everyone in James’s family had only ever treated him with the same kindness and open arms that they treated Harry with. He wasn’t nearly as prejudiced as his father, and used those rare visits to watch real magic happening as if he were watching a parade. He’d go silent while watching his cousins play chess. Seeing those game pieces march up to one another and beat the crap out of each other, was better than any video game he’d ever played. And once, when Gamy’s husband was living, he’d been allowed to ride, harnessed to Harry’s broom with him, as both were given lessons as if he had magic too. He knew he didn’t, but Aunt Lily’s family had made it seem so fun, and made such a fuss about including him, that he couldn’t hate magical people, no matter what his father said about them. The love coming from both worlds often tore him in two. 

He was content to be his mother’s escort and made himself useful by checking in on the guests when Gamy asked him to. He met more relatives on James’s side of the family as he served drinks and let some of the younger children take turns playing games on his Ipad. He got the gist of what was going on with Harry, from his mother, and had no idea how to feel about it. Wizards couldn’t be expected to act any differently than they did. He just hoped his cousin was okay with it. Marriage scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t imagine being married to a bloke, but that was not for him to judge. He just hoped this was what Harry wanted. As long as everyone in the house was acting like such an arrangement was perfectly normal, he would do his best to do so as well.

Lily found herself chewing on her pinky nail tensely, as she studied a copy of the Prophet her sister had handed her, over the breakfast table. Petunia didn’t subscribe to the paper, but she had secret wizard neighbors who could not pass up the opportunity to make sure that she knew. 

“You’ll want to read that, love,” she said to Lily.

Harry was not well known, but the Malfoy elders were socially elite, and jaws did drop when Gringotts released the information in their standard Acquisitions and Mergers Report. The announcement was followed by articles shedding as much light on the suddenness of the marriage as possible. The only images available, were separate ones. Draco in formal attire, attending one of a number of functions, and Harry, almost a stranger to the world at large, sitting astride his broom in full quidditch uniform. It was taken after a hard win, and he looked particularly harried, windblown, and athletic in his padding and cape regalia, as he hovered close to the ground for the shot. The marriage, Petunia was saying, wasn’t what everyone was talking about. It was the fact that no one realized the Malfoy heir’s tastes ran so dark and tousled.  

“Snobs can’t believe that a pristine pureblood would actually commit to a sweaty jock, let alone a working boy. The working classes are impressed with Draco’s tastes. Everyone’s trying to dig up a reason for the match, as if simply being a young, attractive couple wasn’t enough. They’re going to focus on Harry’s magic. By nightfall, they’ll have done some research. Best to tell Harry not to talk to anyone, no matter how polite they seem. That’s how they sneak information out of you,” she pointed out.

Lily nodded, agreeing. Her son looked so handsome on the cover. And so young. He wasn’t ready for this kind of publicity. No one had thought to stop the news from going to press. No one thought it mattered enough to the outside world. Apparently, they had underestimated Draco’s celebrity. He was just another rich kid in some circles, an understated, almost hidden heir. In others, he was a celebrated innovator, raising eyebrows over not just his musical therapy, but the ability to turn his back on all of his wealth and breeding, to bring his talents into the field of medicine. Harry’s image was going to make people think they knew why. As if he’d been some part of a clandestine relationship for years, before announcing their marriage today. 

She smiled. That did make one dream, and they were very good looking boys. They could be happy together. The attention would die down. Draco would come around. She’d asked her maid to stay longer and help prepare the next two meals in case this thing drug out. The day was too significant to toss her closest family and friends out on their ears. Some of them were stubborn and taking note of how well they were being treated in the face of adversity. Today was not a day to burn bridges. She’d play host and feed these nosy buggers, then toss them out. Her kindness had limits. It was Harry’s and Draco’s day, after all. The crowd wasn’t helping.

She’d startled when a young girl popped into view beside her. She was jumpy, she knew the girl’s disruptive comings and goings by now. Everyone overlooked Beatrice’s lack of grace, knowing she didn’t mean to do things with her wrecking ball eagerness. One day, that would mature into something quite capable, but right now, she had a tremendous aplomb for trigger happy leaps of energy. She was a carefree child who didn’t quite know the meaning of boundaries. She’d had a special license to apparate since she was fourteen and qualified under medical hardship. Having a werewolf for a father, subjected her to potential emergencies to get herself or her dad safe. She’d never had to deal with anything close to such an emergency, but her fathers had trained her well and she embodied the charms of both of them, exhibiting a kind of wild compassion that tore the ground up to prove itself.

“Hi, aunty! Dad said I could come over if I finished my homework. I did it in record time. I made it, right before the rain hit. It’s clouding up out there like you wouldn't believe.” She breathed as if she’d ran the distance and not used magic at all. Lily knew that that was just how excited she was over the news of her cousin’s marriage. 

“Is he still here? Did Harry really marry that guy, ‘cause he’s hot. Hot! This is the most exciting thing ever.” She squealed and her sixteen year-old feet stomped the floor excitedly. Lily couldn’t help but smile, remembering how giddy other people’s romances used to make her, before she really knew anything about it. 

The girl put her hands over her mouth and peered over them with eyes the size of saucers. “Did they kiss?” She went flamingo pink and squeezed her eyes shut when Lily returned her stare directly. 

“No, honey. No kisses. It wasn’t a real ceremony.”

“But it’s in the papers. I told everyone at school, that’s my cousin, Harry. Did I lie?”

Lily laughed and hugged her. “No, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” 

Nicknamed Beatrice, by Gamy, who swore she was the spitting image of Sirius’s great grandmother, her real name was Emerald Lupin Black. That name was important because it took years to get it on record.  She was the result of two fathers who mistook their friendship as only that, and didn’t see the interest they shared as anything they could realistically make work. 

Remus thought he could let Sirius continue to have his playboy freedom, and they’d find a way to ignore all those inconvenient feelings. He thought he could suffer in silence and no one had to know that he was in hell over discovering that he, a man, could have a child. Lycanthropy had finally reeked havoc on his genes and triggered the ability when it had never been apparent otherwise. 

He was told, “Since your condition is a curse and not genetic, if we remove the embryo now, there’s a good chance aberrations won’t be transferred to the baby. A surrogate mother could reinforce healthy development and genetically dominate triggers to the mutation. Let us take the child now, and put this behind you.”

He’d signed the embryo away, and gave permission to fully disclose his medical condition to the potential surrogate as he did so. The lady mediwizard treating him promised the child would go to a worthy mother, and that he could compensate for any medical assistance that she and the baby needed, anonymously, until the child was seventeen. He thought he knew what it meant to give up a part of himself. He and Sirius had no business attempting to raise a child. He really believed that was the right thing to do. 

But watching James with Harry, changed something inside of him over the years. His decision tore at him. It made him realize that raising a kid wasn’t about heroic feats and impossible sacrifices, or even getting anything right. Maybe those issues cropped up, but James taught him that the biggest, most important part of it, was just being there everyday. Waking up to the normalness and the seemingly mundane. You can’t put a price on stability. As painful as boredom was, it was the basis for all things worth appreciating. And the amazing thing was, children weren’t boring at all. The way James fawned over the most unrecognizable crayon drawing of Harry’s, helped Remus to realize that anything special to anyone, was so, because of all the non-special, ordinary things in the world. Diapers, crying babies, and all that stuff that scared most bachelors away, slowly took on quiet fascination. Waking up to your kid, going to sleep to your kid, and just allowing them to be, as you watched and cheered them on, didn’t seem so bad. James made it look wonderful. Remus would always have to work, to pay bills and be responsible, so he wasn’t afraid of that. 

Matters were made worse when he saw Emerald, three years after giving up his rights. He’d spotted those doll-like cheeks, huge green eyes, and a mop of loose black curls bouncing around her tiny head as she held the hand of a woman on a bus. Her chatter caught his attention. Her mother repeatedly telling her to shush, made him smile. Her baby voice asked question after question about the people and objects around her. She’d pointed directly at him and said quite loudly, “Look, that man’s staring.” 

He was looking at a child who couldn’t have been quite three, and yet she spoke in complete sentences. He’d had no idea who she was. 

Her mother pushed her hand down a little too harshly, and threatened to spank her if she continued. Remus turned his back to keep from distracting her, but his ears pricked up. She had a distinctive voice for a child so young, and he felt something about her. What he’d given up was never far from his mind, and when she’d gotten quiet, he risked another peak over his shoulder. He turned in time to see an outburst cut short by her mother’s slender fingers pinching her arm. Pink nails dug cruelly, just enough not to break the skin, and the lady held on. His wolf senses alarmed, and picked up her words, “Stop showing out! When I get you home, you’ll learn to shut it when I say so.” 

Instead of pouting quietly, the child let out a scream that had every head on the bus turning. He jerked to face the woman. “That is quite uncalled for! She’s done nothing wrong.”

“Mind your own business.”

“Any mistreated child is my business.” He’d grown hot under his collar, and the wolf in him wanted to tear out of his suit. 

The woman’s mouth went beak-like. She was smart enough not to argue. She grabbed her things and demanded the driver stop. She stormed off of it with her child. Remus couldn’t let it go. He made sure to take the same bus at the same time in the following days. The child haunted him. How could anyone obviously despise such a bright, beautiful little girl? He told himself he was just making sure she was okay. There were no more incidents on the bus, but he did see her again. There was something in her face. She was less talkative and he thought he saw bruises on her plump arms. That caused him to follow her. Without the woman knowing, he watched her, becoming more and more familiar with her timid smile, her want to grab everything that came close to her, and her look of abashment when her mother pinched her. 

After two weeks of trying not to be the wrecking ball in these stranger’s lives, he understood why he was stalking this woman and her child. Because the child wasn’t hers. She was his. He finally had a face to match to the loss he’d felt for years. Call it instinct, call it scent. The wolf knew its own. Maybe the lady had carried her to term, but that was his genetic information smiling back at him, burgeoning with more life than he’d thought possible. His and Sirius’s. He was sure of it. That was the only thing that could drive him to needing to see her face and making sure that she was okay everyday. He couldn’t eat or sleep without being haunted by what he’d given up, and inside of another month, his only thought was, how could he get her back? 

He let slip to the authorities that he suspected child abuse. An investigation disrupted the mother’s life briefly, but revealed nothing conclusive. The next time he saw the child, she was wearing a cast on her arm.

He had to find a different way. He went to James for help with lawyers and financing. Everyone was shocked to hear him speaking of adopting a child, as if he’d always wanted one. He said that he was helping out a friend, who was finding it difficult to care for the child. In truth, through lawyers, he offered the mother a sum of money in exchange for blood testing and magical scans of her daughter. She refused, but he persisted just short of harassment.  He learned her birthday and sent letters every year. By then he’d explained who he was, as much as he could, and why he wanted her. “She’s mine and you don’t really love her. I made a mistake. Do the right thing and give her back. I’ll provide any biological or magical proof that I can.” 

The woman eventually fought back with restraining orders and threatening lawsuits of her own. It took a car accident, admitting to having her muggle family turn their backs on her, and an agonizing fight for her life, to let Remus sit by her bedside and hear him out. She’d had no visitors and she was paralyzed from the waist down. Instead of having him thrown out of her hospital room, she’d cried in his arms and swore that she really did love her daughter. Loved her, but didn’t like her. 

“It’s like I gave birth to the pushiest, loudest bully from my childhood, only in the form of an innocent little girl. She can be sweet, but she’s positively wild. We’re so different. I don’t get a moment’s peace. My anxiety is off the charts. She’s constantly doing things. We’ve been evicted twice, because her magic escapes her and messes with electrical things. My family couldn’t take it. They’re not magic and they don’t understand. It’s not that she won’t behave. She can’t, she’s too young. I only pinch her to settle her down. That’s a lot nicer than what my mother used to do to me. I got smacked in the mouth. You bet I did. I want to see her happy. I want to be the one to make her happy, but… I have to admit that maybe I’m not the one to do it. I’ve watched over her for as long as I could.”

She died before he could get her to sign her daughter into his custody. It took another year of proving himself to Child Services, transforming his life from that of a bachelor, to that of a stable, employed father, before he was denied custody again. It took a midnight stupor, a drunken confession, and raging at Sirius for, ironically, never taking anything seriously, before he let it slip that he was losing his mind over this child, whom he had to adopt, because he should’ve never given her up in the first place. 

“She’s ours, you idiot! I knew I couldn’t trust you to grow up. I couldn’t rely on you, I couldn’t ask that of you, and I couldn’t rely on myself. I did what I thought was best for her. And now I’ve found her, and not even you can keep me from being the father to her that I should’ve been.”

The news shut down Sirius’s ability to crack a joke, and sobered him on the spot. “Are you serious? You  had our child, and never told me?”

“No, I didn’t. She was just a bunch of cells when I found out. The lycantrhropy was off, my lunar cycle was off. I wasn’t turning, or even threatening to turn. I had some tests done. It was a simple procedure.  It removed her at six weeks and implanted her into someone who wanted to have a child. She showed no signs of lycanthropy. I was told the curse had not passed to her and that she could have a normal life. Who wouldn’t pass that up?”

Sirius kept shaking his head in disbelief. “I have a daughter? A daughter?” He was too distraught to attack Remus for keeping the secret. He was too enchanted. “A little girl who looks like you and me?”

Who he was six years ago, was someone incapable of handling such news. Not with grace, anyway. But he’d also seen James with his little empire of a son, and that didn’t look so bad. Fatherhood was no longer the Kryptonite it once was. And that old, playboy Sirius, had no child to have to reckon with. But this one, the one present and hearing the news, did. They were different people now, and the more Remus talked, the more he merely wanted to meet his daughter. Not sulk in revenge or bitterness, just meet her. 

Remus produced a picture, and Sirius could not be talked down from his conviction that that was his child, from that moment on. He’d never seen a two-year old with a shit-eating grin, but that was definitely his. All that frilly daintiness, where some mother had tried hard to make her look like a doll, had his stamp all over it. If he’d been born a girl, he would’ve looked exactly like that. It charmed him to no end, and he was just thankful that he could see a bit of Remus in her chin and forehead. 

The Black family had a different opinion, and fought his attempts to have her legally recognized as blood-relation. It took the intervention of Gringotts, both muggle and wizard lawyers, and fees they would be paying for, for the rest of their lives, to break his family’s wards and have their records reveal the truth. With the Black name behind them, he and Remus were able to adopt Emerald, and gave her the names she should’ve been born with. 

Their relationship skidded around the subject of commitment, but they were committed to her, and lived as a family until she was old enough to understand why they needed separate flats. Sirius loved Remus, but he also loved women and dating and kicking up his heels in protest of growing older. Remus needed peace. He lived with debilitating effects of lycanthropy, and sent Emerald away to him during recovery periods, when medication did not always control his condition. He had resigned himself to loving without asking for anything in return, as long as his daughter was happy, and Sirius wasn’t behaving too stupidly. Any family crisis always saw them pull together and rise to maturity until all threats were abated. Neither were fulfilled by the situation, but as long as Emerald was smiling and going on incessantly about the boys at her school, they told themselves they weren’t doing that badly. 

Now Lily wondered how to impress upon her, the importance of not talking about the marriage until Harry and his husband were ready. 

“What’s the complicated part? Where are they? Did they start their honeymoon already?” 

Across from them, Petunia flipped through the paper and grinned at the challenge facing her sister. 

Lily gently clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth. “Emmy, sweetie, they’re still here. But we’re all being quiet about it because things didn’t go well. It’s impolite to talk about it. Harry’s husband is sad. Please don’t say anything else to anyone about it, not even to Harry, and especially not to Draco. Not until they’ve given everyone permission to. Got it?”

Behind her hand, the teen nodded. Her green eyes pooled with the honor of keeping a family secret. She was a beauty, but had a stout squareness about her build. It could’ve been her taste for antique, button up sweaters that kept her narrow shoulders hidden in fuzzy knits. It could’ve been the fact that she’d shot up to Sirius’s height by the time she was fourteen, and didn’t yet know how to coordinate the long-muscled elegance that Remus moved so with effortlessly. She was growing more experimental with make-up, but still wore her dark hair in two fluffy, overflowing ponytails and was more comfortable in muggle jeans and trainers than stylish dresses. Either way, her looks were that of an unpolished gem, like her name, and Lily knew perfectly well why her fathers encouraged her fashion quirks as “unique.” The longer she remained oblivious to how stunning she was, the longer those sweaters hid it, the longer they got to keep her. Gamy had always said, “When she finds out what she can do, she’s leaving the nest. They’ll be lucky if they see her once a year.”

As soon as Lily’s hand went away, she blurted, “Draco! That’s such a cool name. I can’t wait to meet him. I bet he’s awesome. Is his hair really that white? It looks so pretty. Harry is so lucky. He gets to brush it. I wonder if he’ll teach me to play piano. The paper said he’s nominated for the Magical Registry of World Contributions, for teaching people to play instruments faster than anybody. That’s like the Nobel Prize in the wizard world. I’ve always wanted to learn piano. Do you think he’ll play for us? Gamy’s upright is still in the basement and we haven’t had a party here in a long time.”

Lily didn’t bother to correct her on her facts. The award was nothing close to the Nobel Prize, but it was a high honor. To the naked eye, her accepting nature was unruffled by Emerald’s excitement. To the more perceptive observers, like Petunia and Gamy, who stayed busy between the dining table and the kitchen, her gears were turning. They had all learned early on that a child like Emmy had to be kept busy. 

Ignoring Emerald’s questions, Lily teased slyly, “You know who else is here?”

“Who!” 

“A certain muggle you couldn’t stop talking about the last time you met him. ‘Tuney brought her son along.”

“The Duddler!” Her mouth fell open, as if she literally could not handle the shock.

“He’s pouring tea on the terrace as we speak. Maybe he could use some help. Or a little distraction?”

Emerald jumped up, upsetting the table. “Oh my God!” She looked at Petunia, “When were you going to tell me?”

Petunia’s rapid blinking suggested, when did she have time? She knew the girl had a crush on Dudley, and as eager as she seemed, they all knew exactly what would come of it. Emerald would go bashful and quiet the minute Dudley saw her, and spend the rest of the day expressing her feelings through inappropriate outbursts and awkward social skills. Dudley was a sport for putting up with her, and never let on when her presence pestered him. Until this fiasco was over with, he was officially on baby-sitting duty.

Petunia made light of it. “Well, I’m sure he’d love to see you. Go catch up.”

It was then that the lights started blinking and Gamy came out of the kitchen. She crossed behind the table and stuck her head into the next room where James and his friends were doing their best to wait out the situation. 

“Sirius,” Her tone lacked any humor. “They’ve tripped my wards. Be a dear, and go check on those boys.” 

When she heard this, Emerald froze midstep in her direction towards the terrace. She felt the pull of entitlement. Her dad was going to get to speak to Harry and his husband. Surely that meant she could too, or watch from a distance. But Dudley was so cute and he was always nice to her. The epic indecision caused her to hesitate with an open mouth. It was enough time for Sirius to pause upon seeing her as he passed through the kitchen. Without waiting for her to ask, he firmly admonished, “No. Stay here,” and disappeared with James trailing after. 

Stunned by the idea that Harry and Draco had tripped her mother’s wards, Lily jumped up and ran after them. When Remus and Petunia followed, Emerald tested her father’s authority and set foot into the corridor that divided the house into two living quarters. There, she saw the Malfoys follow in pursuit. She recognized them from the papers. To her, they were a mass of swirling, extravagant fabrics. The man’s heavy, soft-looking black coat played lead to his wife’s powder blue elegance. Their blond hair and stylish clothing left her in the wake of expensive fragrances, perfumes and the sweetness of life-details that were completely alien to her.  All very pleasant to take in. They smelled like new experiences and promises of kindness. They looked like matching male and female dolls. Almost like brother and sister, by their shared, pale traits. All she wanted to do was touch Mr. Malfoy’s long beautiful hair. Her fascination deepened. 

She waited until they were nearly out of sight, before disobeying her father.

 

**** 

  
Harry clasped Draco’s arm tighter. More to anchor the trembling muscles he felt, than to control their pacing. He cleared the threshold first, with Draco a half a step off center to his right. They heard faint gasps before they ever detected movement in the hall. Things were so fragile between them, eaves droppers weren’t exactly their most pressing concern. Especially not doting family members. 

Everyone appeared to forget their discretion as the boys came out into the open. The Malfoys kept a dignified distance while the Potters rushed forward. Petunia hung back with Remus and Sirius. 

“Did you two get any rest?” James directed his question at Harry, while studying Draco’s reaction. After it was out, he cringed at what it might’ve implied. Lily jumped at the chance to disregard it. 

“Never mind that. You must be hungry. Breakfast’s still warm. Are you feeling well enough to eat, Draco?”

She knew she sounded over eager, but someone had to step up. Clearly, Harry had done his part all night long, and looked like he needed a break. Never mind how disheveled and harassed Draco looked. They were all pretending not to see the redness around his eyes or how his clothes hung like rumpled curtains on his slender frame. He moved with painful stillness next to Harry’s untethered easiness. His mouth could not hide his unhappiness if he wanted it to. 

It took a second, but Draco looked at her and answered with steadiest, “No, thank you,” that he could muster. It was such a departure from the rage they’d all witnessed yesterday, that it came across as downright charming. Lily tried not to press her luck. 

“Can I get you anything at all? Do you two want to discuss anything with us? In private?”

Three questions at once. Draco looked at Harry, putting the burden of answering on him. 

“Draco doesn’t feel well, Mom. I’m trying to talk him into taking a room upstairs, but I think he wants to go home with his family.” 

She looked at him. “Is that true? That’s perfectly fine.” 

As if that were their cue, the Malfoys crowded behind James and Lily. “Yes,” Lucius groaned. “These sequence of events have gone on long enough. We could all use a reprieve from our negotiations, which, as far as I’m concerned, are not settled. The contract was completed in disregard of what both parties wanted, therefore, the marriage is not satisfactory, no matter the legal recognition. I say--”

Narcissa intervened. “That we retire and revisit the situation next week.” 

There were bags under her eyes, but her smile was gracious.  She aimed a sharp, pointed look at them, with the lines of her mascara. But weariness, conveyed by her dry throat, made her sound sincere. She seemed just as exhausted as her son. 

Her solution was more of a truce, and met with practical nods. No one knew what else to do. 

“Okay.” Lily clasped her hands, making it sound like a fun new game they could all play. Since Draco appeared to sway on his feet and every second had Harry glancing to make sure he was still attached to him, she just wanted to put everyone out of their misery. 

“Let James and I show you to the most appropriate floo and we’ll see you off.” 

James beamed, happy to have a purpose. 

The Malfoys had arrived by car, and sent the chauffeur away sometime in the evening. It had been their idea to observe all formalities before taking familiar liberties with the Potter’s floo. James guessed that argument was dead and buried now that the boys were married. He was smart enough to say nothing as he led the way to their family room. It held one of the larger fireplaces, capable of transporting six people at once. He walked slowly enough to make sure Draco was keeping up. His gut took a hit when he looked behind himself and saw their intertwined arms separate on the journey through the house. Harry reached for Draco’s hand, which swung aimlessly. He caught it. Draco did not pull away. 

In the family room, the hearth was seldom used, clear of soot, and carved from a single slab of French marble. Lucius stood upright, without having to crouch, with his wife beside him. Lily and James held back when Harry made a point of catching Draco’s eye before letting go of him. Petunia, Remus, and Lupin kept a polite distance while Emerald cursed her luck from the closet across the hall as they partially blocked her view.  

Harry surprised everyone by asking, risking, “Can I see you home? I’ll leave immediately after.”

They all held their breath as Draco nodded with uneasy consent. Just then, thunder shook the house, startling them all. It was a rare occurrence, as its foundation rose from bedrock that anchored its structure with the sturdiest materials wizards could manipulate with endurance spells. All of it packaged to look like an unassuming muggle estate behind gated walls. 

Remus spoke up. “I guess that’s my cue to help Gamy bring the guests in from the terrace.” He bowed out politely, leaving an empty spot for Emerald’s line of sight. 

She sucked in her breath at the sight of Draco. He was taller and more beautiful than she’d thought. But what was even more amazing, was the way Harry stood so close to him, touching his arm even, without being embarrassed in front of his parents or anything. She’d never seen him bring anyone home in the capacity of boyfriend or girlfriend, so this revelation dripped with strawberry sweetness. And Draco was the cream. She hated to see him go. 

Harry stepped into the floo with the Malfoys and Lucius murmured a repellent charm that would keep soot off their clothes, before stating his intended destination. There was the usual green flash, but instead of disappearing, all four remained in their spots. Stunned.   
James and Lily looked at one another. 

Lucius glanced around the room, then to Harry as if he could offer an explanation. 

Harry shrugged, keeping his suspicion to himself. “Give it another go.” 

Lucius did, and met with the same result. “What in damnation is going on here?” He’d been in this place long enough. 

“The storm,” Harry rushed before his parents could answer. “It has to be. This doesn’t happen.” He looked at his father. “Does Gamy have wards over the floo?”

“Not to keep anyone from leaving. We’ve been trying to get as many people to leave as possible.”

“We’re not blocking access until everyone’s cleared out,” Lily added. 

“Then it has to be the storm. Didn’t anyone else think that clap of thunder was awfully loud down here?” 

While they speculated, they missed the warning in Draco’s sway. His body leaned into Harry’s and Lily went warm with relieved affection, until she saw his legs buckle and he continued tumbling to the floor. 

Everyone rushed forward as Harry caught him. “Draco! What’s wrong?”

James helped Harry support him, leaving nothing for Lucius to do but stammer as they drug him to the nearest sofa. Draco winced when his head hit the cushion, but his eyes remained closed and his head twisted away from anyone attempting to talk to him. 

Narcissa’s long legs split the opening of her coat, to step over James and insert herself closest to her son. 

Lucius demanded of her, “What’s wrong with him now?”

James scrambled back and Lily tried not to scowl at Lucius. 

“Darling, the day has obviously been too much for him.” She patted Draco’s hand. 

“It’s their floo. It’s done something.”

“It’s not the floo,” Harry insisted. “He’s exhausted and he’s not well.”

Everyone looked at Draco, unable to deny it. His body slouched partially off the couch, until James lifted his feet to level him out. “We should send for a doctor, just to make sure.”

“ _We_ should be leaving. We can get all the medical assistance my son needs if we could simply leave this place.”

James countered, “Well, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with the floo. Try apparating, although I wouldn’t recommend taking Draco that way in the shape he’s in. You can always call that driver you showed up with, the floo isn’t your only option here.”

Lucius lifted his chin. “I’m not leaving my son behind.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Narcissa said. She felt Draco’s cheek. “He does need a doctor, he’s hot. Lucius, bring the driver back.”

James gave a heavy sigh and raked his hands through his hair. “You know what, I can drive you.” He looked at Sirius. “Pull the car around. I’ll get him to the door.”

“Do you need help carrying him?”

“Don’t think so. I’ll use a half weight charm. He’s not that heavy.”

Sirius went. Harry looked up from Draco and thought he saw a fleeting moment of panic on Lucius’s face. The wizard was not accustomed to not being able to control anything. Not only hadn’t he had any control since yesterday, things were slipping ever further out of his reach. Important things. 

“It’s okay, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry tried to comfort him. “I’m sure he just needs to rest.”

Lucius went rigid and shot back, “What is your magic doing now?”

The accusation made everyone stare at Harry. 

“Nothing. I’m not doing anything. He’s been upset all night. He didn’t eat or sleep.”

James leaned forward. “Neither have you.”

Harry went on, “I imagine this is more stressful for him than you or I will ever know.”

“And convenient for you. The longer we are detained, the more precarious our situation grows.”

Harry stood up from kneeling by Draco. “This isn’t about you. I’m sorry if my magic has inconvenienced your family, but it won’t hurt him. Or any of you. If the floo isn’t working, there’s a good reason for it. Maybe he’s just too sick to travel.”

“My son is not a fainting willow. We are made of sturdier stock than that. Whatever’s wrong with him, I blame the grave error of setting foot in this house.”

“Hey!” James crossed his arms. “Don’t talk to my son like that. You wanted a marriage, you got one. You’re just pissed because you’re not the one pulling the strings anymore.”

“It’s okay, Dad. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about Draco. If he can’t see what he’s doing to his own son, how can he see the truth of anything else?”

He hadn’t meant to put so much venom in the insult, that’s just how it came out. He couldn’t hide what the sight of Draco’s limp body and Mr. Malfoy’s embarrassed disposition made him feel.   
Lily jumped in. “Honestly, we can point fingers later. Get him to the car.”

Without letting anyone help, James wrestled Draco into his arms. He immediately wished he’d told Sirius to pull around back. The carport off the kitchen was closer, but he made for the entrance. Lily got in front of him and shooed everyone else out of the way. They got to the foyer as Sirius ran into them. 

His clothes were dripping, hair plastered, and he gulped air to catch his breath. “No. Good,” he panted. He bent forward, hands on knees, as if recovering from a punch in the gut. 

James knew he wasn’t that out of shape, so he waited. 

“Can’t do it, mate. S’storm. It’s bad out there. I didn’t even make it to the garage.” 

“You could’ve accessed it from the kitchen. Just downstairs, behind the pantry.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. Something’s going on out there. Look out a bloody window.”

James had no choice but to prop Draco into a chair. Harry rushed to put a pillow under his head. Everyone ran to the windows. Sheets of water smacked horizontally across the glass and grayed out the view. All they could tell was that the downpour was blowing sideways from heavy winds, and they could only see that when lightning illuminated the darkness. It was only shortly afternoon, and yet they were staring out at a dark evening sky. 

James considered the rivery film blowing across the pane. “You could apparate to the car.”

“Tried that. Doesn’t work. Give it a shot.”

Disbelieving, he dropped eye contact, and concentrated on sitting behind the wheel of his car. He’d done it so many times, it was second nature. Seconds without any movement, confirmed that Sirius was right. “Shit!”

“That’s okay,” he quickly recovered. “I know how to drive in a little rain.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Lily said, straining her eyes to see out. “If you can’t make it to the car, what makes you think it’s safe to drive?”

Just then, a flash of brilliant green light imitated streaks of electrical discharge. Spindly fingers sizzled across the sky, vaulting in front of the windows and turning the room green for an instant. Thunder sounded like boulders breaking against the roof. Nothing about that sequence of event was natural, and it silenced everyone in the room. 

There was such an ear-splitting rupture, felt in the soles of their feet, that Petunia shielded her head with her arms and called out for Dudley. She was certain the house had suffered collapsing damage under the impact of that vibration. 

“It’s okay,” James tried to calm her. Lily was instantly by her side and threw her arms around her. 

Lucius glared at James. “What the hell was that?”  
James and Harry looked at each other, and said in unison, “The terrace.”

They were off and running. Harry shouted for someone to look after Draco. Lucius pursued, leaving Narcissa to weigh the urge to follow or stay behind. She had to know what was going on, and insisted Draco would be fine in the chair. She went after them. Lily and Sirius looked at one another, at Petunia, then followed. 

Petunia was left with Draco. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what had made that sound. It bothered her stomach. Nervously, she took a seat on the chair arm, beside Draco’s slumped body. She fluffed a pillow for him just to give herself something distracting. When she caught herself humming and brushing strands away from his face, she snatched her hand back, folded her arms, and waited tensely for everyone to return. 

The sound of splintering wood and a loud bang, made her scream again. She turned in time to see Emerald’s contorted limbs bursting through the lower panel of a storage closet. The girl rolled, sirt over head onto the carpet, where her body landed a meter from Petunia. Emerald bounced up before she could say a word. Missing one shoe and limping, she tripped over an old fashioned carpet sweeper that had fallen out with her. She offered an apologetic smile, looked longingly at Draco, and said, “He’s pretty!” before taking off after the others. 

Petunia examined the broken door and the mess she’d left spilling out. She could see that a shelf had broken, probably under the girl’s weight, causing an avalanche of boxes. Behind them, a narrow space opened further into the interior of the house. She saw the old corridor between the walls, where she and Lily used to play. Well, where Lily used to try to get her to come, but she’d been terrified of the idea there were spiders in there. It only took one romp into a web bigger than her whole body once, to put her off spidery places for life. She’d been ten and chasing after her carefree sister through the woods. She should’ve known Lily would simply avoid the nest while she ran right into it. She’d screamed and cried the whole time Lily worked to pulled those tiny red spiders out of her hair. They were smaller than the head of a nail, but still creepy. 

Emerald, that sneaky child, had been using the closet system to spy on everyone. Lily had always told her it was fun in there, that the inner corridor led to the back of every closet in almost every major room. Gamy explained that the space was originally meant to be like a safe-room, against home invasion if wards ever failed for any reason. There was a time when magical families were not safe. There were old stories of hiding witches and wizards during various wars when nonmagics hunted them. The old families started building that way, thinking ahead. Lily spoke of trunks and artifacts hidden between the walls. There were even places that were wide enough to lay down and sleep. The cots were still there, like in a bomb shelter. She’d seen shelves of food and toys, as if people were intended to pass through, like some kind of underground conspiracy. That had horrified Petunia. That, the dark, her claustrophobia, and the spiders kept her out. She didn’t have magic to keep the spiders off of her the way Lily did. 

Apparently, insects were the last things on Emerald’s mind. Not when the house was buzzing with cute guys and excitement. Petunia saw that the girl didn’t give herself time to worry about spiders or anything at all. Instead of being outraged by her antics, she was a little impressed. It was an amazing house and she wished she’d been as brave as Lily during their childhood. Not all of her neurosis could be blamed on growing up the only magicless person in a house filled with it. There was just too much to worry about. How like everyone to go off running towards danger when this boy lay helpless and unattended to. Even his parents. See, nobody fretted the way she did. Worry was her curse, the antithesis to all magic, and she bore it in silence.  

She looked at Draco and returned to the arm of his chair. 

At that moment, James, leading the others to the terrace, ran headlong into Remus and Gamy. He’d been moving so fast, he had to skid to a halt or barrel into them. 

They spoke at the same time. Remus, “No one can leave.”

James, “Guests on the terrace.” 

Gamy leaned on her cane, waving her hand. “Everyone is inside now, safe and dry. We’ll have to wait out the storm.”

“But what’s out there? What was that noise?”

Remus shook his head. “I can’t tell you. I heard it, couldn’t see it. It’s too dark. There’s not enough clearance to see above the roof. We should head upstairs, not down. Perhaps I can crawl onto the roof.”

Gamy looked sharply at him. “You will do no such thing. If I thought it was safe, I’d open the attic terrace and let you all traipse up there to have your fill. But it’s not. Whatever’s going on, we’ll sit tight and wait it out.”

James held out his hands. “But something’s out there.”

“Yes, and humble as it is, this house is all the magical fortress that we need. All of our strength is in here. If you need a visual, then use all that technology your son talked you into buying. Surely you can see all around the place without standing on a bloody roof in the middle of a lightning storm.”

James closed his mouth. Maybe she was right, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that muggle security cameras don’t always produce quality imaging in wet weather, not even those equipped with night vision. It wasn’t like her to avoid facing the source of things. 

“Gamy, what’s going on?” The question caused him, and everyone else behind him, to lean closer to hear her.

She smoothed her hair, not satisfied till she felt the pins in their proper places. Her compressed lips indicated that she was indeed not telling all that she knew. 

“I’ve tried sending everyone home. It doesn’t work. But people can apparate inside. Every five minutes, someone new arrives to tell me there’s a dragon above the house. Even muggle neighbors see a strange storm, if they don’t see the creature itself. The phone won’t stop ringing, so I’ve silenced it and charmed it to return calls with a cheerful message that we’re all doing fine. I can’t get outside to camouflage the appearance, so we may receive a little unwanted attention. News helicopters and all that nonsense.”

All of them needed time picking their jaws up off the floor.  
   
Narcissa sharply to Harry. “Are you doing this? Is this your magic?”

He stammered, unsure of what to tell her, before turning back to his Gamy. “A dragon?”  

She nodded, releasing the confirmation reluctantly. She knew the significance it would have for him. Surely his parents had filled her in on the whole negotiations fiasco yesterday. 

“How is that possible?” He stepped on his father’s feet to get in front of her. His brow furrowed, alarmed and excited at the same time. “What’s it mean?”

She looked at him as if every question cost her something she didn’t want to give up. But his needs were greater. “It means we’re in for a long night. No one is leaving. And evidently, the magic wants as many people who love you, in attendance as possible. Where’s Draco? You got him out, I take it?”

“Yeah, he’s collapsed. He’s not well. Can we get a doctor here?” 

She nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “I’ll see what I can do. Storms like this produce tunnel clouds, like an upside down funnel. Huge at the bottom, small at the top. They spiral to and from other places. We have a window before the top closes. When it does, I don’t think anyone will be able to apparate inside anymore. We’re being given time to prepare.”

They all asked in unison, “Prepare for what!” Even Narcissa and Lucius shuffled forward, bearing down on Lily and James’ back. 

“For things like this, like figuring out how to contact a doctor on the outside. And where to put the guests. How to make everyone comfortable.” 

“Mother,” Lilly demanded, “have you seen something like this before? What’s going on?” 

Gamy raised her hand as if to shush her. “I have never seen this precise occurrence before. But I’ve seen magic take a stand. And let me tell you, when it locks the doors, it is trying to accomplish something. It wants everyone where they are. Ours is benevolent, I’ve trusted that all my life. If you try to fight it, you’re going to end up on the wrong side of things. We’ve just had a marriage. An uneasy one. The family dynamics have changed. My guess is, there will be an attempt to smooth all the rough edges between these two, magically. What they can’t resolve, the influence will try to resolve for them.”

“So, we’re not in danger?” Lily asked.

Gamy’s eyes softened. “As long as we cooperate with the magic, we’re not. It’s not trying to harm anyone. It’s like an animal with its own instincts and nature. It might show you frightening teeth at times, but it’s no more evil than a tiger. Stay out of the tiger’s way, and you won’t get hurt.”

Harry didn’t find that at all comforting. He suspected none of them did.

She said directly to James and Remus, “Don’t go up on that roof. That creature doesn’t want to be here anymore than we want it here. It’ll leave when its job is over. The whole storm will go. I’ve called for two more helpers with food and your cousins are making sure everyone is being looked after. There’s nothing to do but wait it out.”

Harry’s gut went tight. “But that’s his patronis. Draco’s patronis. It’s been building since yesterday? Is there something else wrong? Should we wake him? Give him dreamless sleep medicine? He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”

She stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder. 

“Hush, don’t you dare think this is something you can fix for him. You and he are joined in life now, and your magic knows what to do. It hasn’t let you down yet. This isn’t something he’s doing by himself. You’re both involved. You’re both problem-solving with your magic. Let it do the work, and don’t let the dragon upset you. Don’t wake him. I know you want answers, and I don’t really have any. But if he’s out, it’s because the magic wants him out. There’s no telling what he’s doing from his side of things. Don’t let his sleep fool you. He’s working very hard to make things right. If he wasn’t, your magic would not be feeding his dragon to keep that hole in the sky open. You’re doing this together. The energy between you two, is just trying to restore balance, like any storm. Now get him to a guest room and get him settled. Take Mr. Malfoy with you, and let their little elf do all the work. If anyone can get a doctor in here, it’s that little creature.”

Now that time had become a factor, Harry had to fight his urge to fling himself over the terrace to get a peek at that dragon. He turned to Lucius, “Can your elf bring a doctor here?”

Caught off guard, Lucius blinked excessively and stuttered. “I, I’m sure he can. If it’s at all possible. There’s no telling what this storm is going to--”

“Good. Get on it. And have him help us get Draco to bed. Come with me, I’ll show you where that is. I plan on waiting out this night with him. Your elf can chaperon us if that makes you happy, but I will stay in the same room with him. I’m sorry that you can’t leave, but there’s an underground passage back to the guest house. Have your servant bring you whatever you need to be comfortable, I don’t know how long this will last. If what Gamy says is right, your elf may not be able to come and go at will all night. There’s a time limit.”

Narcissa grabbed Lucius lapel. “Darling, what if we can apparate alongside Vanilli? We should try it, at least. That may get Draco to a doctor faster.” 

That must’ve been the name of their elf. Harry all but rolled his eyes. They couldn’t know Gamy the way he did. If she said no one can leave, that meant wizards could not apparate out, not even with an elf. But he knew he had to let them find out for themselves. 

He inched past Remus and his grandmother. While the Malfoys wasted time being idiots, he had to get a look at that dragon. His father squinted at him and knew what he was thinking. 

“Harry, no!”

Too late. He took off. His family may not know how to scale the masonry adjacent to the terrace, but he did. This house was a kid’s jungle gym on steroids. Between his magic and the right pair of trainers, he could make it to the second floor windows in some sections of the house, if he concentrated very hard. If he did it fast, they wouldn’t have time to worry. He had to see. 

With his parents calling behind him, he ran through the house. To get to the other side, he had to pass through the family room where guests milled about, drinking and eating hors d'oeuvres. He was sure they were discussing the dramatic weather and speculating on his disastrous marriage keeping them all prisoner there. He ignore the relatives who called out to him, apologizing to them in his mind. People kept stepping into his path, trying to talk to him. Dudley was here, eating cake. That was a surprise. Did he even want to know? Emerald was here. She pounced on his arm. 

“I’m so excited for you!”

“Thank you, sweetie, can’t talk now.” 

He untangled himself from her. More cousins, a great uncle, two great aunts. He dodged them all and made it across the hall to the french doors where rain beat like bullets. It never dawned on him that guests would try to follow. He wrestled the doors open against the wind, sending torrents of watery gusts into the house. He couldn’t close them. People were blown back and drenched with spray from winds that were in excess of thirty miles per hour. That was the kind of wind that took sides off of houses. Harry held onto the knob, braced his footing, and charged out into the storm. 

Outdoor furniture, what wasn’t bolted down, had already blown away. It was as dark as a summer evening, and if he’d been superstitious, he would’ve sworn that God was angry. But he wasn’t, so he slipped along wet tiles, gripping the banister to find his way while squinting through torrents of wind and water, that made him fight for every step. Now he understood what Sirius had meant. His mother was right. No one could drive in this mess. 

 He reached the edge of the terrace, barely heard his name, and turned to see his father following the same method of staying upright and coming after him. 

In good weather, when he was a kid, he would’ve used a charm to make his body weight seem lighter as he hoisted himself along the niches found in the stone. But in this weather, he was afraid of making himself lighter. The wind might blow him away. So he gripped the old indentations and imperfections in the masonry, feeling for them by memory. This was how he used to sneak in after curfew, when he had one. He knew the wall like an old friend. Aside from the wind and added slickness, the real problem was his shoes. He was wearing dress shoes, and they ruined the needed traction. He kicked them off. Sock feet were better than slick soles, though he knew he’d scrape them up. It’d be worth it. He had to do it. 

It got him the traction he needed, but his grip worked overtime to get him to the ledge of the next floor. By the time he pulled himself up, his fingertips were burning and his knuckles cramping. He threw his leg over onto the ledge. Stone bit into his knees and he eased his way into a standing position. He was here to clear the blocked view of the roof’s edge. The terrace was one of the few places where he could peer out farther than the eves extended. It had a roof, which was why he’d had to climb above it. 

Overhead, only dark clouds boiled over the garden. When lightning flashed, it looked normal. Powerful, but normal. He was starting to shiver hard. His clothes were soaked through and he might as well have been standing on his rooftop naked, for all the protection he had. But he waited, praying to see what he needed to see. 

“Show yourself,” he told Draco’s magic. 

Thunder billowed so loudly, there was no mistaking a dragon’s roar suffused deep inside it. It moved the clouds, not dispersing them, but increasing the diameter of their lowest rings. They circled the house and he could not see where they began and ended. But he saw them ignite with a green glow just as stunning as the North’s Aurora Borealis, and watched it sizzle the dark with embers of fury. For one second, it was like a green sun came out, shining just enough light to cast the shadow of a fearsome beast against the clouds, before turning off again. Harry saw an impossible wingspan that could’ve engulfed his whole house. He saw the shadow of the thing lift in flight. And when it belted another rumble from inside the clouds, that sound scraped the bowels of his soul. He changed his mind. He didn’t want to see the real face of that thing. He’d seen enough. 

Was Draco getting back at him and his family? Was this a sign of some offense? Was this dragon at war with them? Was it even physical, and not some manifestation deciding to haunt them? He decided these questions were better answered inside, in dry clothes. He didn’t think he could pull himself into a window. Not now. It was easier to go back down than up. A stiffening chill had slowed his movements and was beginning to numb his wet toes. He could barely feel his way down with them. He proceeded cautiously until he felt the railing under his heels. By then, his father and Sirius were yelling at him, soaking wet themselves, and he let himself fall into their arms. They drug him back through the doors, where he tried to stand, but found himself gasping and dripping on his knees. Someone brought him a towel. They were speaking to him, but all he could hear was the dragon promising retribution in his head. What had he doomed his family to? 

He looked up. Across the hall, some twenty guests and relatives, stared back at him, unsure of what to do. He was vaguely aware of his mother fussing with running the towel over his hair, and Lucius, pale and silent, staring down at him. Narcissa, shaken by whatever she saw, backed away into the crowd. He knew she was running to check on Draco, the same thing he should’ve been doing. 

But he needed a moment. He had to figure out what all this meant. He had to brace himself. If Draco didn’t wake up and talk to him, how could he know what to do? 

Remus and Gamy persuaded everyone to go back inside to their drinks and conversations. Sirius and James helped him to his feet. 

“Harry,” James admonished, “Draco is going to need you. Get yourself cleaned up. If Gamy’s right, you can’t go flying off like that. Trust your magic.”

He nodded, but looked at Lucius. “Mr. Malfoy, do whatever it takes to get Draco a doctor. Hurry. Your son’s dragon is out there, and it’s pissed. I’d annul this marriage right now, to keep everyone safe, if I could.” 

As he said it, he vowed to himself that no piece of paper controlled what he felt. “Please send your elf to bring back help for him. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but Draco’s feelings in all this, are essential. I want to make him happy. Please, go.”

Lucius’s mouth was fixed to argue, but he appeared to think better of it. Turning, he left Harry to accomplish what he’d been asked to do. 

 

* * *

Note 1: The next chapter is written and will be posted very soon, likely tonight or tomorrow. And as always, thank you to all the readers who commented so sweetly and left kudos. It’s a joy to write for you!  :-) <3 

Note 2:  About apparating, I’m using the one-word covers it all method. The distinction of ‘dis-apparating’ and having two different words for coming and going, is tediously unnecessary to me. It’s a creative choice. Sorry, I’ve got a story to get on with and it grows more challenging as the plot winds tighter. All unnecessary words must go.  :-) 

Note 3: Emerald Lupin Black is the portrait invention of [Angel Moline/Lexi-Glambert](https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=783022365404016&set=gm.310624949616020&type=3&theater), ([Deviantart link](https://www.deviantart.com/lexi-glambert/gallery)) who created this picture of her and asked anyone to give it a name. She liked the names I suggested, and I really liked the portrait. The idea of her stuck and as my love for Sirius and Remus grew, I decided that she’s perfect for this story. Her characterization may be very different than what the artist intended, as I made all of that up. :-)

Artist credit: Angel Moline, character: "Emerald Lupin Black"


	7. Sleeping Secrets

Harry’s shower was actually a five minute rinse. He raced to put on dry clothes and oversee Draco’s move to an upstairs bed. Gamy made him eat a sandwich in front of her, before she let him go see Draco. 

“Give his parents time to get him settled. The elf got him into pajamas and is going to fetch a doctor. It won’t kill you or him to take one minute to feed your body. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to try to sit up with him.”

He ate in record time, just to get back upstairs. Once there, he had to wait outside the door with Narcissa, until the little creature signaled that Draco was decent. 

Harry entered behind her, and could’ve wept for the strange acceptance that washed over him, at seeing Draco asleep under the covers. His pale hair looked so foreign against midnight blue sheets. Especially the way it now fell across his forehead. He almost looked like a normal, average person, in light gray pajamas that revealed something more of his personal tastes. Unlike Harry’s wrinkled PJ’s, when he actually wore them, Draco’s were pressed and smooth, with the monogram, DM on the shirt pocket. A matching robe lay at the foot of the bed. On the other side of his lamp table, a small case of personal items waited for his use when he woke up. In sleep, his face was defenseless. And Harry saw that ‘almost normal’ was apt. There was something about him, like an unopened gift no one suspected, that had a secret allure. 

Maybe he was just excited that Draco was under his roof still, and finally sleeping in his family’s bed, even if it wasn’t his personal one. Close enough. Never mind what the hell was going on outside. He knew it was wrong, but he was proud of this moment. He tried to be patient as Narcissa sat down on the bed and pushed her son’s hair back. 

She leaned over him and whispered, “We’re right here, sweetheart. We haven’t given you up. We haven’t abandoned you. Anything you want, we’re right here.”

Harry turned away as she kissed him. He was about to ask if he should leave, when she stood and announced, “Our elf will check on him through the night. We’ll be in ourselves, but you two… ”

She looked as though she lost her thought. Then she swallowed and met his eyes full on. “Old laws say that you have rights. I’m asking you…  No, I’m appealing to you, begging you, don’t touch him. Not yet. Not in this state. It would be a gross betrayal.”

What kind of a monster did she think he was? He was too shocked to interrupt her. 

“I don’t mean to assume that you have no morals, or to insult you, but that has to be said. My son is vulnerable and you’re holding all the cards, Mr. Potter. Put yourself in my position, knowing that I have to honor your marriage or there’s no telling what’s going to happen. We have no means of leaving. I’m desperate. I’d guard his body myself, except that I think that you must have some decency within you, or Draco’s magic would never have entertained you as suitable to begin with. We could never have come this far. We never have before. As his mother, I have to say some harsh things in order to make myself understood.”

Her voice was beginning to crack and he decided to let her off the hook. 

“Mrs. Malfoy, I give you my word that I’m not going to lay a hand on Draco. He’s sick and I’m not turned on by that. Everytime you or your elf shows up, you’ll see me behaving myself. I want to impress Draco more than I want to impress you. That’s not going to happen if I take advantage of him, now is it?”

He too could camouflage harsh feelings with polite words.

She closed her eyes as if she knew she’d stooped lower than he. “I’m sorry. That’s my son and I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep him safe.” As if that was an apology, she strode past him and walked out.

Instead of being upset, he felt badly for her. It must suck being constantly afraid that people wanted to take things from you all the time. A normal family would’ve been thankful for his family’s hospitality, happy that Draco was safe, and left it at that. 

But he did understand her. He closed the door behind her and looked back to the bed. All that slender refinement was his. He hated himself for loving that, but that’s all he could feel at the moment. His. And no one could take it away. He felt like he’d graduated. His life meant more now, than it had yesterday. A real human being had been given to him to care for. He was not going to fail. 

Oh no, maybe he was turning into a Malfoy. Honestly, were his feelings any different than Narcissa’s? He now had something that someone might be tempted to take away. He’d never had that before, and it was establishing roots of paranoia. He decided to forgive her. You can’t know what people are going through, till you’ve gone through the same thing. He’d never had anything this splendid in his bed before. Of course he was going to sexualize it like the prize that it was, even if he never uttered one word about that or even touched Draco. That magic was there, in the ambiance of the room, in Draco’s reposed form and closed eyelids. His complete submission. And Harry was careful to dim the lights and keep his hands to himself. He'd never been much for church, but he knew a religious experience when he felt it. This was everything.

He set the bedside lamp on its lowest setting. Thunder rumbled overhead and he thought he heard the dragon. He spoke to Draco. 

“What are you doing with that thing?”

As his mind searched for answers, he recalled the last twenty-four hours and all the different facets he’d seen of Draco so far. Enraged, sad, violent. But his mind struggled to recall something else. Something so brief, he could’ve easily forgotten about it. There’d been another dragon. A steep hillside, and a blond young man harnessed to ride among the clouds. There’d been sun. It shone on the highlights of Draco’s hair so brightly, that they matched the white of his teeth. And what a smile. Maybe because he wasn’t used to seeing it, or maybe because it really was that beautiful, either way, the memory of it gave Harry an opiate warmth that dismissed all the bad stuff as irrelevant. 

He leaned over Draco. “I saw the real you. In that vision. Did you see the real me?”

Something about him was worth all of this. He just couldn’t name it. It had been in that vision. If that was who Draco really was, then this was going to be the best marriage ever. No matter what. Nothing could make him regret it. Not even a fucking dragon. He was tempted to get on the internet and start looking up customized pianos, just to get ideas. But that only brought the documentary back to him, and he wanted to watch it again. He needed to see how Draco leaned into his music, into the notes he played, so that his body rode out the tide of each frequency and tone. He saw him moving around on the piano bench, and wanted more of that sensual, long wasted, long-limbed musculature. He was thin, but his arms looked strong and shapely enough in that black muggle T-shirt he’d worn.  How he held nothing back as he played. He wasn’t embarrassed to let emotion move his body around. Somehow, Harry had to get to that level of him. That was the real Draco. And until he did, he’d willingly put up with all the protective, angry levels of him that put everyone else off. He’d stand up to his family if he had to. If they ran out of patience. 

As he stood there, reflecting on all the good that he’d seen, his mind flashed to bloody tile prints. Immediately, he regretted telling Mrs. Malfoy that he wouldn’t touch Draco. He had to get a better look at those hands. He felt guilty, but he picked one up and turned it over. He gave himself more light. He turned Draco’s hand back and forth. Just as he’d suspected. There were no bruises and no signs of broken skin. He sighed with grim obligation and took out his wand. 

He said the charm for undoing glamours. He waved it the length of Draco’s body and braced himself. 

The change came, but not as he expected. It was subtle at first, but the effects grew stronger. Draco’s face thinned a bit, like he’d lost ten pounds. His hair got lighter, as if each follicle held a tiny fiber optic that shined through the entire strand. His cheeks got sharper, and his pajamas looser. Shadows appeared under his eyes. His lips were brightly chapped, as if dehydrated, and Harry thought he saw broken blood vessels marring his neck. He didn’t dare pull the covers down to see anything more. 

It was strange, like Draco had used a glamour to tone down his beauty. He’d obviously done it to hide the fact that he wasn’t feeling well, and wasn’t looking well, but even sick, he was still the most beautiful person Harry had ever seen. He picked up his hand again. This time, the bruises and bloody skin was back. The blood was now a dry film and caked. There was no telling how long he’d been doing this to himself, smashing his hands against walls. He must’ve been using a charm anesthetic. Harry couldn’t see these hands playing a piano any time soon. 

He swallowed his anger and said to Draco, “I’ll get you to tell me what this is all about. I’m here to take care of you and you don’t have to do this anymore.”

He set about cleansing and sterilizing Draco’s hands. Instead of magic, he went to the adjoining bathroom and used a soap caddy for a bowl of warm water, and a cloth. He sat on the bed and gently dabbed between Draco’s fingers. 

“I don’t care if I wake you up. I hope I do.” His voice hung in the silence. Outside, the rain could still be heard and every now and then, the dragon let everyone know that it was still there. 

“Why would you do this to yourself?” You’re a grown man, not a child, he thought but didn’t say. Doctors now knew that even comatose patients still had sensory input, even if they couldn’t get any response out. Draco could very well hear him. 

“When you talk to me, the way we talked in that vision. That dream or whaever, you’ll see that I’m a really nice guy. You won’t feel threatened. We’ll travel. I could help you in your work. You know, carry your bags, make sure you eat well, provide security, that sort of thing.”

He made himself laugh. “Seriously, I’d be a jealous husband. I’d have to keep my eye on you, and you’d let me, because you’re the bigger man. In a perfect world, anyway.”

He kept talking, kept trying to find pleasant things to say, to distract from the evidence before him. He knew he was going to have to have another difficult conversation with Draco, to find out what his hands were all about, if they survived this night. His poor husband. 

For a moment he wondered if he could get away with one small kiss. Just lean in and do it. But something in him wanted to prove Mrs. Malfoy right. He would prove himself exceptionally decent, even if it killed him. Not that he wanted to do anything more than that. But it just seemed that the closer they were together since last night, the more their relationship was going wanting. Denying himself or Draco a kiss, just felt cruel. Yet he knew Mrs. Malfoy was testing him, and he so wanted to pass that test. He wouldn’t risk it. 

As he wrapped Draco’s hands in bandages, wondering if the elf couldn’t get a doctor through, another idea occurred to him. What if…  

He dismissed it, but kept glancing at Draco’s lips. What if the dragon was pissed about the marriage for a different reason? There’s no telling what was in that contract. Lucius had specified a Consummation of Marriage. What if the dragon was waiting on them to honor their contractual duties, to make it real? What if everyone in this house was being held waiting, simply because they hadn’t taken that age-old step? 

“You’re fantasizing,” Harry told himself. He knew he was. He had a right to. All this perfection beside him, in his bed even, and he couldn’t even give it an innocent kiss. 

“You know how I know you’re my husband?” He waited, as if Draco could answer. “Washing this blood off your hands, feels more meaningful, more satisfying to me, than any date I’ve ever brought home. And no one’s ever stayed more than two nights. If we’re still here tomorrow, you’ve beaten the record.” 

He smiled as if congratulating himself on his humor. “And as much as I want to kiss you, I think it’s great that I’m the one staying in here, doing this for you. You’d hate it, so I’m glad you’re asleep. I feel like the Universe put you in my bed. Not my personal bed, but close enough. So until you’re ready, I’m happy with this for now. Whatever the hell your dragon is doing, I’m glad we have this time together. You’re gonna wake up and you’re gonna see that I’m an okay guy.” 

Finished wrapping gauze, he smoothed the bandage on Draco’s hand. “I may not know things about you, but I love everything I’ve seen of you. Even your anger. If something’s wrong in our household, I won’t have to worry about you trying to hide it. You’d blame me for it and shut me out until I fixed it. I can live with that. I hope to God you accept me.”

He leaned in close and listened for Draco’s breath. “They’ve already stopped me from kissing you. I’ll be damned if they stop me from saying I love you. I don’t care that we’ve never met until yesterday. When I want something this much, it’s because I know it from another place. Another time. You can fool my eyes. But you can’t fool my soul. I love you, Draco Malfoy, even if your dragon kills me. Parents bring home newborn babies all the time, and are so in love with the little strangers, they don’t stop themselves from saying it over and over again, like lunatics. Well, you’re a stranger in my home, but I know what I feel. And I feel I know you, I just don’t have the words for where or when. I have just as much right to say it as those parents who might be raising the worst people on the planet. I love you, I’m crazy about you, and I’m not giving that up just because it sounds irrational. That fucking dragon is irrational, yet it’s up there, isn’t it?”

Draco’s mouth twitched. It was slack, and Harry wanted to think that amusement found its way to him at the deepest levels of sleep. That beautiful mouth. One day, it was going to happen. He’d know what it felt like. For now, he inhaled the starch of Draco’s pajamas and let that be enough. This was closer than he’d been last night. It was something. 

Just as he was about to lean away and go back to the chair, Draco mumbled. He waited, pretty sure it was nonsense. 

“What was that? Have I persuaded you to talk?”

Draco’s eyes opened to glass slits. Gray-blue intelligence barely held Harry in their focus. Those pupils couldn’t tell him if Draco was really awake, but his hand on Harry’s arm, did. For a moment his face crinkled like a child’s and hot tears spilled into the hair at his temples. He choked and said, “I didn’t mean to hurt my baby. I didn’t mean to.”

As if the thought was too much to bear, his body gave up on that last gut-wrenching sob, and his head went limp again, turning away from Harry. 

Magic understood Draco’s words faster than Harry could. That’s why he was shaking. That’s why he was panicking inside, like parts of him were shattering. Draco’s words, conscious or not, believable or not, had the same effect. They left Harry in jagged edges, skewered and fumbling for his foothold into the real world. 

He drew close to Draco’s ear. “What? What did you just say?”

Just then, a knock at the door preceded its opening. James Potter had hardly announce that he was coming in with the doctor, before he was actually inside and ushering the wizard to the bed. Harry tried to speak, to tell them that Draco was talking, but between his hesitation to admit what he’d heard, and the doctor’s urgency, his mouth opened onto nothing. James looked embarrassed for him, took him by the shoulder and guided him away.

“Let the doctor have a look now, you’ve been by Draco’s side long enough. Shouldn’t take long. I promise, we’ll know something soon and you two will have another night to get to know each other better. Come on, Harry. He’ll be fine.”

Harry let himself be guided out the door, rather than speak of what he’d just heard.

* * *

Note:  Just a reminder, Draco has a very sad story to reveal. Be prepared to skip what makes you uncomfortable. I will still attempt to write it as beautifully as possible.

Thanks for reading so far. Thanks for all the positive comments! :-)

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Note: I've learned that my stories never really end. Even if I mark a chapter complete, inspiration could have me adding to it.


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